


"Inherit the Earth" & "Carry On" Redux

by Wayward_Winchester_96



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Series Finale Do-Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Winchester_96/pseuds/Wayward_Winchester_96
Summary: We all know Supernatural deserved a better ending than it got, so this is my attempt to deliver. If you're looking for a radical canon overhaul this isn't the fic for you. This is a rewrite of the last two episodes of Season 15 alone. Absolutely everything up to and including 15x18 "Despair" is canon. We pick up with Castiel gone, the human race smited by God, and Sam, Dean, & Jack left behind to see if they can save the world one last time...
Comments: 17
Kudos: 20





	1. "Inherit the Earth" - Teaser

Sam always prefers the quiet. Whenever Dean played his classic rock records, and the Bunker’s underground acoustics made Sam feel like he was being smothered by the sounds of Metallica or Styx, he would take a walk and try to soothe himself with the sounds of nature. They’d spent so much time trying to save nature from the whims of crazed beings, and he wanted to always take time to savor it. Today, though, the silence feels like a weight crushing his chest. The silence of a world that was once buzzing with life.

The truck drives through what is now a ghost town. Every car they pass looks like it tells a different story, from the ones that crashed due to spontaneous absence of their drivers to the ones just sitting there on the road as if parked and awaiting the return of passengers. What were these people all thinking the exact moment they died? Sam tries not to think about it, tries to keep his focus on the wheel and the road ahead. Jack sits next to him, looking out the window in astonishment and confusion at the scattered remnants of civilization. A briefcase sits on the sidewalk, latch popped open and spilling out papers. A tipped over, empty stroller lies in the road. There are empty tables with half-eaten food still on them. Neither dares speak.

Out of a deep desire to believe they’re not alone here, Sam calls Dean one more time. After Dean’s usual voicemail message begins to kick in, he throws the phone to the floor of the truck in frustration. Jack turns, startled by the sudden burst of noise piercing the monotone hum of the truck’s engine. Sam would apologize and try to calm the boy down if he believed there was anything to feel calm about. But he’s starting to think that calm is no longer called for.

...

The Bunker is even quieter than the open road. Up there, the wind can still be heard as it whistles by. Down here, it’s more closely reminiscent of a tomb, a comparison Dean would find more than accurate right now. He slowly passes through the empty halls, not sure where he’s going. Other than the slightest shuffling of his own feet, the only noise is the occasional buzzing vibration of his cell phone, which remains on the ground where he discarded it, in the dungeon. He’d left a lot of things in that dungeon.

Deep down, Dean is aware he should’ve answered it. Sam likely thinks he’s dead. But even if he had answered it, what would he have said? There’s nothing left to say now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Cue Title Card..._


	2. "Inherit the Earth" - Act I

The front door to the Bunker flies open, a sudden burst of sound and desperation. Sam barges in with his gun drawn in one hand and an angel blade in the other. He told Jack to keep behind him for his own safety, powerless as the Nephilim currently was. He shouts out into what he hopes isn’t the void. “Dean! Dean, are you there?! Cas??” Upon seeing no immediate threat, he slowly steps forward and motions for Jack to follow. “Dean?” He repeats his call.

“Over here.” The sound of Dean’s voice, dull and stilted, is almost enough to make Sam wish he’d gotten no reply at all. He comes rushing down the spiral staircase and finds Dean sitting at the big table in the library, alone.

“Dean, why didn’t you pick up your phone? What the hell happened with Billie, were you and Cas able to find her?” Sam can’t shake the feeling that these questions are moot.

“Billie?” Dean asks as if he forgot for a moment who that was. “Oh. Death is gone. The Empty swallowed her up.” He pauses. “Doesn’t matter anyway… she wasn't responsible for any of it.” He isn’t making eye contact with Sam, preferring instead to stare off at some bookshelf.

Sam nods quickly. “Yeah, we know. It wasn't just the Apocalypse World hunters that died. Dean, it… it was everyone.”

Dean looks up from his trance finally, confused at that. “What are you talking about, ‘everyone’? How many more--”

“What happened to Castiel?” Jack cuts Dean off mid-sentence, his priorities clear.

Dean purses his lips and looks down at his feet for a long moment. “Same thing. Empty had to be summoned somehow to get Death. Only reason I'm alive is ‘cause Cas did it…”

“Cas summoned the Empty?” Sam is incredulous despite knowing the gravity of the situation outweighs the semantics. Trying to understand everything specifically, down to the detail, is probably the only coping mechanism he has left. “How did he do that?”

Jack suddenly slumps over in a chair on the other side of the table, dejected. “The deal. He uh… Castiel made a deal with the Empty last year. When I died the first time.”

Sam looks from Jack to Dean and back again, feeling so out of the loop he might just prove Dean isn’t the only one who slams his fist on the table to make a point. “Cas made a deal? And you kept it from--”

His ungentle prodding of Jack for more explanation is halted in brusque fashion by Dean. “Like it even matters anymore? There was a deal. He's gone. End of story.”

Sam wants to take a moment to mourn for the loss of the angel he knew for years as his best and truest friend. But the circumstances are too grave and he forces himself to press on. “Dean, listen to me. It was Chuck, he did it all. He killed Bobby, and Donna, and Charlie, and by the time Jack and I made it out we couldn't find anyone. And I have a feeling that he didn't just do it to Kansas...”

As Dean takes that in, tries to grapple with what Sam is saying, Jack looks up from where he'd been focusing his attention, namely the etching of ‘Castiel’ in the table. “Are we... the only ones left? On Earth?”

Sam rationalizes, like he has to. “Maybe on Earth, but who knows about Heaven, Hell... there could still be something or someone who could help us. We can’t just give up on--”

Once again, Dean bears no discussion and gets up. “Come on,” he says, beckoning Sam to follow. “We're gonna go fix this.” Jack is the first one to try and follow, but Dean holds his hand up to stop him. “Me and Sam are gonna go have a chat with the big guy, kid. And I’m not planning on letting you anywhere near him. It's what... what he would have wanted.”

Jack falters, wanting to convince them to let him come along, but Sam gives him a slight shake of the head to signal his agreement with Dean. He can only watch them go.

**…**

The black 1967 Chevy Impala rolls up to the edge of the bridge and comes to a stop. It had been, arguably, the one true home the Winchesters had ever known in their lives prior to the Bunker. It had carried them across decades, from one apocalypse to the next, and when they had nothing left except the road. Now both brothers sit with the reality that if this plan works, they won’t be getting behind the wheel of their car ever again.

Sam is in the middle of mulling over what he wants to say, as he had been for the entire ride here, when suddenly Dean opens his door without saying anything at all and starts walking with great determination. Sam gets out and tries to catch up. “Dean, can’t we talk about this first? I’m with you, but this is serious. We don’t even know that he’ll come!”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll come because I'm praying. I'm praying like I've never prayed before," Dean says, leaving little to the imagination about just what kind of colorful prayers he's been sending Chuck's way for the past several minutes.

It’s early evening now, and the sun is recently fallen. The rich blue of twilight sky above them somehow fills Sam with dread, which is quickly explained when he turns his eyes forward and sees him on the other end of the bridge. Chuck, in his typical underwhelming human form, so underwhelming that by the time they finally realized his true designs on them, it was too late to do anything but watch Jack die. It may still be too late to do anything, or maybe it was never in their power to do anything to begin with, but that doesn’t mean they can’t try. The brothers meet God halfway, standing under dull yellow lights, and Sam surprises himself by speaking up before Dean gets a chance. “What do you think you’re doing, Chuck? Where did everyone go?”

The supposedly Almighty Creator shrugs. “Where did they go? Some went to Heaven, some went to Hell, the monsters all went to Purgatory of course... I gotta be honest, quite a few more humans went downstairs than I was really thinking would end up there, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. That's what made this toy so defective to begin with.”

Dean looks torn between fiery anger and cold antipathy. “Bring them back. You’re going to bring them all back. If you don't...”

Chuck laughs. “Then you'll what? Stomp your feet and drink a little more?”

“Quit with the taunts,” Sam snaps. “You told us you wanted a clean slate, no more worlds so you could start fresh. But Earth's still here, and in case you haven't noticed you missed two humans when you were smiting.”

“Oh I didn't miss anything. You two were always the star attraction anyway, I just eliminated all the supporting players. As for the whole world...” He looks up at the stars in contemplation for a moment. “…I'll get around to my clean slate eventually. I'm having too much fun with this first.”

“We give up, alright? We surrender!” Dean’s tone takes on a tinge of desperation. “Tell us how you want your damn book to end and Sam and I will do it right here, right now. Want us to kill each other? We'll do it. Want us to drive our car off this bridge? That's fine, too.”

It takes Sam a split-second, but no more than that, to commit to his brother’s plan. “Yeah. Life isn't worth living like this, and you know it. We're not gonna give you the pleasure of us fighting back anymore.”

Chuck blinks, as if caught off guard by the earnestness of their offer. “Jeez, you are the two funniest monkeys I ever created. Don't you get it? This is my ending. You two, wandering a wasteland knowing there's no one left to save because the both of you are the reason everyone is dead. I look forward to seeing you grow long white beards and start talking to volleyballs.” Then he drops the levity from his voice. “But more realistically, I look forward to seeing you two eating your own guns because you just can't take it anymore in... oh, I'd give it a couple weeks. Do your best to make it a month though, I want my money's worth. See you around, guys.”

And then he’s gone. Without even a snap of his fingers to warn them, God disappears, leaving Sam and Dean in the eerie stillness that suddenly becomes suffocating around them.

**…**

The typical day goes something like this. Sam sits in the Bunker library with his pile of lore books, trying increasingly in vain to formulate some sort of plan. The pile gets increasingly bigger over time, and paradoxically less helpful to match. Dean occasionally helps, but more often goes to refill his whiskey, which he begins going through at an increasing pace as time wears on. Jack will also attempt to help Sam out, but for the most part he sits off to the side, unsure what he could possibly still contribute. He tests his disturbing and disheartening new ability now and then on whatever bits of organic matter he can find, small plants and the like. Each time he wishes he wouldn’t have, and can only stare at the death his touch creates. Days pass in this fashion until it becomes achingly, crushingly typical. Until it becomes weeks.

**…**

Sam opens his eyes. He stopped counting the days since they became the last two and a half humans on Earth a while ago, but if he were to venture a guess, they were probably coming up on day thirty or so. He lingers in bed for a while before mustering the strength to get up and get dressed. He has to, before he starts thinking about the magnitude of what’s been lost. Today, he resolves in silence to himself, he’ll clean out the library. The Bunker is becoming increasingly disorganized of late, discarded papers strewn about with discarded books. It isn’t something he wants to grow numb to. He feels the scruff on his chin and glares at his own unkempt face in the bathroom mirror. Eventually he may clean himself up, too.

The younger Winchester shuffles out of his room to go grab something to eat, but hears a noise halfway to the kitchen and alters course to investigate. It almost sounds like it’s coming from… Castiel’s room. Sam approaches the door hesitantly until realizing it’s already ajar, and slowly nudges it open. He had expected to see Dean, but the sight of Jack sitting at the foot of the bed isn’t a surprise. The Nephilim is looking over a collection of the angel’s things. “Jack.”

Jack looks up, unaware that Sam was standing there. “Oh, Sam… I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Sam leans against the doorframe. “Jack, have you been sleeping at all?”

“Even without my powers, I don't need as much sleep as you and Dean. I’m okay.”

Sam steps inside and takes note of a trenchcoat lying on the bed. “Is that…?”

Jack observes it with a sad nod. “I never knew he kept more than one. I guess it makes sense, given how many fights he got into.”

Sam actually smiles a little, running his hand over it. “And here I thought keeping clothes bloodstain-free was just another angel power…” He sits beside Jack and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Jack, I know this has been hard on you. We haven't talked as much as we should… I've been lost in a daze trying to find _something_ in those books, anything at all... and with Dean, it's been all I can do sometimes to keep him conscious.”

Jack tries to reassure him. “I understand. And it's fine, you don't need to apologize. There are more important things going on than…” Suddenly he trails off, as if distracted.

“…Jack?”

“I… I feel something… something in my head, like a throbbing… and it's getting louder…” He groans in pain and doubles over off the bed onto his knees, clutching at his head.

Sam grabs him immediately and hoists him to his feet, shouting. “Dean! Dean, come help! It's Jack!”

Within moments, Dean comes running, which is actually a pleasant surprise. Sam was worried he might still be sleeping off the previous night’s worth of drinking. “What the hell?”

Jack grits his teeth and mutters “I-it's like… a signal… like…”

Sam hesitantly ventures a guess. “…Angel radio?”

“I never picked up on that as well as Cas did… but I’m feeling it very strongly… and it's pulling me somewhere.”

Dean and Sam exchange a wordless look, knowing that if they were ever to have a shot, this was probably it. A shot at what, they weren’t sure, but it was the only thing left that could even remotely pass for an opportunity. They take Jack and leave.

**…**

For the first time since their last, failed encounter with God, the Impala is taken out of the garage where it had begun to gather dust. It speeds down empty roads, through empty cities, as if it were any normal day. It takes a lot for Dean not to crack a joke out of habit, like he would on any ordinary hunt with Sam.

Jack sits in the backseat, still clutching at his head and occasionally issuing directions to Dean so they’ll know exactly where they’re supposed to be going. “Go right here… turn…”

The three of them drive for the better part of that day, and by that afternoon Jack finally tells them that they’re getting close. Dean parks the Impala at the curb in front of an old church somewhere nearly two states over. The brothers walk inside with Jack trailing behind, armed with angel blades and an abundance of caution. Hopefully isolation hasn’t dulled their reflexes.

Finally, in the center of the otherwise unlit house of worship, the smallest lights start to appear. A figure is standing behind the pulpit, lighting candles. The soft, flickering light reveals the face of their brother Adam, but they both know who’s really in charge. “Michael?”

Jack groans again and collapses into a pew. Michael notices his pain and steps forward. “Ah. Sorry about that.” A finger snap, and Jack's migraine lets up. “It was the only frequency I was fairly sure Dad wouldn't pick up on. Had to get a message to you somehow.”

Dean raises his blade in a defensive posture, despite knowing how harmless it is to an archangel. “What the hell do you think you're doing here? Now? After all this, you come back now?! Everyone's dead.”

Sam gives Dean a look to get him to lower the blade. “Where's our brother?”

Michael sighs and closes his eyes. When he opens them again his posture changes and they somehow intuitively know that they're now hearing from Adam. “Sam. Dean.”

Despite his anger, Dean is affected at hearing Adam’s voice again and softens. “Adam… how are you still alive? Chuck, he… killed everyone.”

“He did, but Michael felt the human race being purged and shielded me with his grace. It’s a little ironic… I spent so long separated from the rest of the human race in the Cage, and just when I get back, suddenly it’s the human race that’s gone.” He stares into the small flame of the lit candle in his hand before setting it back down. “Cages upon cages…”

“Then... then you're still alive,” Sam says.

“Oh, no, I'm quite dead.”

Dean furrows his brow. “You look alive.”

“My vessel still is,” Adam admits. “But everything that makes the human part of me is just about gone. Michael did what he could, but I'm... let's just say there's less to me than even a ghost now. I feel like… an echo.”

Dean sighs, tired of dealing with celestial beings for one lifetime. “Well that's still a lot better deal than literally anyone else got. Does Mike here have anything to contribute or is he just looking for someone to hang out with at the end of the world?”

Michael's eyes flash angel-blue, signaling that he's back in charge. “If I recall correctly, I'm the one who gave you plain and simple directions to locking my father away. The Leviathan Blossom. It's not my fault you messed that up.”

Sam steps forward. “We tried, but... it was more complicated than that.”

“You mean you once again managed to wrestle defeat from the jaws of victory. Why am I not surprised?” Michael shakes his head in vague bemusement. “I told Adam it was useless coming here. With Death gone, there's no one powerful enough to stand up to him now.”

“Listen, you holier than thou son of a bitch.” Dean walks up the steps toward him with homicidal, or maybe suicidal, intent. “Just because you're wearing my brother's face doesn't mean I won't knock you straight through that stained glass window.”

Struck by a thought, Sam holds his hands up to stop the pissing contest. “Wait a minute, if Death… will both of you shut up for a minute? Death may be gone... but we have her book.”

That gets the archangel’s attention. “You're talking about a book from Death's library?”

“Yeah. I stole it. _The_ book. The only one that matters now. God's.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it's a real nice paperweight now. Only Death could open it.”

Michael thinks it over, and then looks at Sam. “Take me to the book. Maybe not.”

**…**

Four men, two and a half humans plus one and a half archangels, stand around the table in the center of the Bunker’s library. A lockbox sits rather ominously in the middle of the table, as if daring someone to open it. Sam uses his key and removes Death's book from where he’d been keeping it for the past several weeks. Handing it to Michael, he says “I didn't think even one of the archangels could open a book meant for Death's eyes only.”

“You’re correct, I cannot.” Michael closes his eyes and Adam takes over. “But maybe I can. After all, I'm dead. No soul left in me, nothing…” He picks up the book and, shockingly, is able to pop the seal and open it up. “There.” Sam is stunned, and goes to reach for the book, but Adam stops him. “I wouldn't. It's written by Death. Only the dead can touch it.”

Adam sets the book down on the table and switches back to Michael, who scans the last page. The whole thing looks like a blank tome to Sam and Dean's mortal eyes.

Michael finally addresses them. “Death's language is even older than my father, so it's ancient to me… but I think I can just about make out the gist.” He begins to read aloud. “And when the… creator, I think, that's what it calls him… when the creator is… consumed? Consumed by…” He looks up with a start. “Consumed by the Darkness. When the creator is consumed by the Darkness, he shall die and leave his creation behind.”

Dean hits his fist on the table. “Great, that's just frickin' great.”

“What's wrong? All we have to do is find my aunt and persuade her to help us. She wanted to kill God last time from what I’ve gathered, why shouldn’t she again?”

Sam swallows, and delivers the bad news. “Uh… the thing is, we kind of already did.”

“We did and it failed.” Dean leans against a bookshelf, looking newly despondent. “Chuck turned her back to his side, and now she's a… part of him.”

Michael blinks several times. “She's… what?”

Jack chimes in, having remained silent as usual until now. “It was my fault. I could have killed both of them, Death gave me what I needed to do it, but it was too late.”

Sam sighs. “Jack, quit it, you know that wasn't the right thing to do.”

“Yeah well, what would have been the right thing to do, huh? Do nothing?” Dean asks. “Because that's exactly what we've done. Nothing. And now the most powerful beings ever are sharing one giant dick of a body, and we're screwed.”

Michael considers this. “If my father and the Darkness really bonded… then there has to be a way to render them unbound from each other.”

Dean looks as if he doesn't dare to hope that might be the case. “Go ahead and let me know if you get anywhere with that.” He walks off, presumably to locate the liquor. “Someone come get me when it's time to fight our next final battle. Going on a dozen now…”

Sam and Michael share a pensive look, then decide to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next act posts next week! Same time, same place


	3. "Inherit the Earth" - Act II

Michael is in the Bunker library, or rather one of its many adjacent libraries, flipping through the umpteenth volume of ancient magic, when Jack awkwardly shuffles into the room. “Nephew. Come in, I was hoping to see you.” He says cordially. “I had a few questions to ask about Death. Specifically her plan, the one that didn't come to pass.”

Jack exhales the breath he’d been holding in and takes a seat. “There's not much to tell… I passed these trials, regained my soul, strengthened my vessel, absorbed a rib of Adam…”

Michael gives a low whistle at that. “Rib of Adam, you say? I'll give it to Death, she really knew how to go for the nuclear option.”

“It's… just a shame it didn't work.”

“And she sent you to the Empty to… explode?”

Jack nods. “Yeah. It wasn't pleasant.”

Michael tilts his head. “But you're fine now…”

“Is that surprising?”

The archangel shifts in his chair. “It's… certainly interesting.” He looks Jack up and down like he's pondering an idea before returning his attention to the lore.

“If that's all you wanted, can I go now?”

“Why the rush, it's not like you've got anywhere to go.” He pauses, and grimaces. “Sorry, that's my lack of social niceties coming through again. Adam would have held my tongue for me, but he's been fading more and more over the past days…”

The boy shrugs. “It doesn't bother me. I took a long time to learn those things too.” He recalls a memory. “There was a time there when I really thought I had it in me to be just like a normal human being, and live with human beings. But that's all gone now.” He turns to leave the room, but hears his uncle makes a noise, what sounds like a snort of laughter, and he stops.

Michael waves his hand. “Never mind. I wasn't laughing at you. You just… reminded me of your father there for a moment.”

Jack is genuinely hurt, and looks as if Michael had struck him upside the head. “…Why would you say that? I’ve done nothing to you.”

He looks perplexed at first, then realizes his mistake. “Ah. Not like that. I meant your father from… before.”

“Before…?”

“Before he was corrupted by the Mark. Lucifer wasn't created evil. He was my brother once, and I loved him dearly. What you remind me of is his passion, his desire to really… do things, I suppose. Despite what everyone else told him. Despite what I tried to tell him…”

Jack reluctantly sits back down, chewing that over. “I've... spent so long trying to take after my mother. She was so good, and so pure of heart, that I never really considered Lucifer before he became… Lucifer.”

“You never thought that you might have gotten any good from my brother. Just the bad.”

Deep in thought, Jack leans against a jar of ancient roots used for some manner of spell sitting on a shelf behind him. Inadvertently, he causes the roots to wither and become dust. He gives a pained groan at that, annoyed and dismayed to be reminded of his affliction again.

Michael's eyes widen. “How long has… that been going on?”

Jack holds the jar in his hand, examining it. “Since the Empty… please don't tell Sam and Dean. I'd prefer they think I'm just powerless, like they do now… better than letting them know that the only power I have is destruction.” He sets the jar aside and falls silent.

**...**

In the main room of the Bunker, Sam sits at the table showing a large map of the world, hooked up to the radar detection system that years ago warned them of angels being expelled en masse from Heaven. He’s in the process of trying to take a break, but can only stare at various outlines of countries and contemplate their now-barren nature. Dean approaches with a bottle in hand, and Sam closes his eyes in frustration. “Dean, you really need to cut it out with the…” He trails off as Dean reveals two glasses in his other hand and sits down opposite him.

“This here is the good stuff, you don't waste this on binge drinking.” He pours them both a glass and takes a moment before raising his in a toast. “To Cas. We never got around to it.”

Sam looks solemn, but relieved, and raises his glass. “Yeah… to Cas.” He takes a sip.

Dean observes his manner. “What's eating you? I thought you had faith in the plan.”

“I believe that if anyone knows how to help us separate Amara from Chuck, it's probably Michael… but what he said back at the church was right. We could have stopped this whole thing months ago. It's my fault that we didn't.”

“Creating a new Mark and trapping Chuck? You said it yourself, you saw how things would have turned out if we'd gone down that road. Not pretty.”

Sam scoffs at that. “Yeah, because Chuck showed it to me. How do I know he was even telling the truth, he had literally nothing to lose by lying to me. All he does is lie.” He looks off. “It’s like you said. We’ve done nothing. And it’s not like we had no chances either.”

Dean shrugs, his more spiteful demeanor from before having softened. “It was too big a risk, any way you slice it. And what's past is past, no use regretting it now.”

“I know that, but… I kinda envy you, you know?”

“Come again?”

“Ever since this all started with Chuck, you've been the driven one, the one who was determined to get us out of the maze, the hamster wheel. But honestly… I've been afraid this whole time. Afraid of what's outside the wheel.” Sam takes a longer drink from his glass.

“Yeah, you know why that is? You over-think things.” Dean is sarcastic, but honest. “And maybe that's good, maybe we've only stayed alive this long because you actually think things through. Me, I just figured we'd be alright as long as it was you, me, Cas…” A pause now. “Even when I thought there was no hope left, I kinda took comfort in the idea that you and me may be dust, but Cas? Cas would live forever. Probably being his stupid noble angel self until the sun blows up in a million years.” He gives a soft smile at that idea. “Now that he's gone… I finally wonder if maybe that's it. Maybe when we go out there won't be anyone to remember.”

Sam tries to put on a smile and raises his glass again to cheer Dean up. “Well… I guess we'll just have to not die, huh?”

Dean smirks humorlessly and toasts again. “Yeah… here's to that.”

The two sit up straight and at attention when Michael walks in. Despite having taken down worse in their time, it’s difficult to feel completely at ease around one of God’s oldest and most powerful creations. Sam clears his throat. “Michael. You find anything yet?”

“Me here, not Michael,” Adam says. “We agreed this would probably sound better coming from me than him.”

Dean takes a deep breath and finishes off the drink in his hand. “Okay, hit me.”

“It took Michael and his brothers to bind the Darkness at the dawn of creation. If only the four of them could wrangle her into the Mark to begin with…” Their younger brother tries to sound diplomatic. “Then, without another power player like Death around, it stands to reason that only the four of them could stand a shot at wrangling her out of God instead.”

Dean’s whiplash is immediate. “What exactly were you and Mikey brainstorming in that library, how to somehow make the end of the world even worse than it already was?! Because if so, you're doing a great job, A+.”

Adam takes a seat next to Dean, having anticipated his resistance. “Alright. And how do you propose we separate God from Amara? Ask him very nicely?”

“I have a connection with her! We use that!”

“You kinda used that connection to stab her in the back,” Sam interjects awkwardly, earning a glare from Dean. “That's why she merged with Chuck to begin with.”

Adam persists. “And even if you're right about having a connection to her, God's not just going to stand still and let you convince his sister to side with you again. We'll need backup. Powerful backup. And the archangels are as powerful as it gets.”

“Hold on a minute though. The other archangels are all dead inside the Empty, and only God has the power to resurrect an angel from out of that place, right?” Sam asks.

A flash of blue, and Michael takes over. “The only one with that power aside from the Empty itself, which is why I'm going to go there and plead my case.”

Dean stops short to think about this and smirks. “I'm starting to like this plan, let me go get the archangel blade and we’ll get this show on the road right now.”

He gets up but Sam grabs him by the arm. “Stop it. Michael isn't looking to get killed… I think.” Even he's confused now.

“Jack told me that a couple months ago Castiel was able to visit the Empty by inducing a state of temporary death via removing his grace and keeping it contained for a time before giving it back and dragging him back to Earth. I'm willing to take that same risk,” Michael says. “My father will eventually pick a fight with the Empty if he succeeds in wiping out creation, and that’s a fight the Empty might not be interested in waging if its main goal in life is sleep.”

Sam looks to Dean. “We have to try, right? If he succeeds, we’ve got four nukes pointed directly at God and hopefully willing to go off.”

Dean nods, resigning himself to the plan. “Yeah. And hey, if he fails, we find ourselves a couple of volleyballs.”

**...**

Michael sits patiently at the big table as Sam slowly and precisely makes a cut at his neck with the archangel blade. He winces at the pain, and Sam quickly passes Jack a flask to draw his grace into. “How long was Castiel able to stay under?”

“About an hour,” Jack replies as Michael’s grace begins to drain out of him.

“You know what to do then. In an hour…” Michael says, starting to slur his words.

Jack drains enough of his grace into the flask and seals it, setting it on the table. Michael slumps over in his chair, dead for all intents and purposes. As soon as he does, Dean gets up and starts to head off. “Well, if no one needs me, I'm gonna beef up the angel warding on this place. Not for any particular reason, you understand. Wanna come with, kid?”

Jack follows Dean for lack of anything more productive to do, and Sam keeps watch over Michael. The younger Winchester’s eyes occasionally glance at a stopwatch he’s set up. This is going to be one of the longer hours of his life.

**...**

Fifty-nine minutes and seventeen seconds. That’s how long it takes for Sam to finally stop pacing back and forth across the library and return to Michael. He shuts off the stopwatch and reaches for the flask. “Alright, I sure hope you found what you were looking for in there...” He unseals it and holds it up to Michael's face. At first, nothing happens, but just as Sam starts to get worried, the glowing energy starts flowing out and back into his mouth. Michael gasps and his eyes start to open as if coming out of a coma. Sam tosses the flask aside and tries to shake Michael back to awareness. “Did you do it? Did the Empty agree??”

Without warning, a blast of energy knocks Sam backward and sends Michael flying out of his chair onto the ground. A voice calls out: “Get out of the way, Sam!”

Sam whirls around at the sound of the voice, recognizing it immediately even without seeing the face it’s attached to. “Gabriel!”

The archangel Gabriel marches past Sam, reaches down to grab Michael by the throat, and hauls him up to shove against the wall. His eyes flare up in fiery blue. “Alright, big brother of mine, let's see just how much you like getting gutted like a rat!” The archangel blade flies off the table and into his hand.

Sam panics and practically hurls himself at Gabriel to prevent the blade from reaching its target. “No! Stop! It's not him, this is our Michael!”

Gabriel’s fury falters just a bit, and he looks in confusion from Michael, who still hasn’t fully regained consciousness, to Sam. “He… what?”

Sam goes to check Adam’s pulse before remembering he won’t find one. “Gabriel… is that the last thing you remember? The other Michael killing you in Apocalypse World?”

“Dying typically is the last thing most of us remember, Sam, so yeah, stupid question. Better question! You say this is our Michael? The one in the Cage?!”

Sam fights to keep his jaw from dropping too far. “Oh wow, uh… listen, you missed out on a little bit here. I thought the Empty would give you more of a rundown of what's going on.”

“The Empty? What are you clowns doing screwing around with the Empty?”

“Resurrecting you!”

Michael slowly rises, supporting himself by gripping one of the stone columns, and rubs his neck in pain. “Listen… listen to him, brother…”

Gabriel’s eyes widen in mock-surprise. “Brother? That's rich, since when do you give a single crap about being my brother? You disavowed me just like Dad and all the rest.”

“That's… kind of what we need to talk about.”

Sam, still trying to get a handle on things, puts two and two together. “So if the Empty brought you back here, then… oh damn it.” Sam runs off down the halls. “Dean! Jack!”

**...**

On the other side of the Bunker, Dean and Jack continue the monotonous job of applying new angel warding to the place. Dean paints the symbols while Jack reads the chants to activate them, at which point the paint glows bright and hot before disappearing into the wall. Dean wipes the sweat off his brow and puts the can of paint down. “Break time. I think we covered the whole east side of this place. Let's go check on Sam and see if--” Dean turns around and comes face to face with the archangel Raphael.

“Winchester.” He smacks Dean hard enough to send him flying down the hall.

Jack panics and tries to go help, but Raphael flicks his wrist and tosses Jack into a side room, flinging the door shut before the boy can get up. “Dean! Dean!”

Raphael strides toward Dean, lying on the ground. “Great idea, this was just a great frickin' idea…” He mutters to himself.

“You tried to kill me.” The archangel’s voice is flat. “You and your brother tried to kill me many times, actually. And then that abomination Castiel destroyed me. You'll all pay.”

Dean spits blood out and issues a rueful laugh to his face. “Too late, pal. Cas is gone. I can send you back to see him though if you're so inclined…”

Raphael punches him in the face again. “Oh? A pity. I'll have to exact double the revenge on you then. Just to make sure things are perfectly equitable.”

Trapped in the side room, Jack frantically pounds on the door trying to get it open. He wishes he had Sam and Dean’s physical strength to bust it open with the weight of his body, but he just hasn’t had the training. He should have listened more during those lessons with Bobby. Suddenly, he hears something coming from behind him. Like breathing. He turns around and sees the silhouette standing in the corner. “…Jack?”

Jack freezes and slowly inches away, knowing it to be his father. Sure enough, Lucifer approaches out of the shadows that had been concealing him. “Is it… is it really you?” He seems confused, and that’s when his eyes flicker with grace. They flicker blue.

Raphael squeezes his hand into a fist and Dean screams in pain, clutching at his stomach as it feels like he’s being impaled on a set of dull, rusted knives. “You humans. I'll never be able to understand why you were my father's favorite creation.”

Dean once again finds the strength to laugh out loud. “Favorites?! If we're his favorites, I'd hate to see his enemies…”

Raphael scowls and goes in for the kill when suddenly an energy blast knocks him down to the ground. He and Dean both look up to see Lucifer standing over them, the silhouette of his wings extending to their full length and power behind him.

At that moment, Sam comes running and sees the scene, focusing not on their two new arrivals but on his beaten and bloodied brother. “Dean! Are you alright?”

Lucifer approaches Dean and the elder brother flinches… only to be healed with a touch. Sam and Dean look at Lucifer, and then at each other, with a mix of fear and confusion.

Jack comes running from the other direction. “Oh. There you are. All of you…”

**...**

In the main hall, Gabriel holds the archangel blade on Raphael to make sure he doesn't try anything, the two engaged in a kind of silent standoff. Nearby, Michael sits facing Lucifer and reaches a hand out to touch his brother’s face. He closes his eyes in great concentration. Sam, Dean, and Jack stand off to the side, still unsure what to make of their houseguests. Finally, Michael pulls his hand back and turns to regard the Winchesters. “When the Empty resurrected my brothers, it sent them back into the world as they were when our father first created us.”

Adam takes over. “Reverted to factory settings, in other words.”

Sam looks at Lucifer oddly. “So for Lucifer… that means he's as he was before God gave him the Mark that locked away Amara?”

Michael switches back. “It would certainly seem that way.”

Lucifer, for his part, looks mildly unsettled, as if he's still processing information and has a slight headache. “I… I remember everything… everything I did. But it's… different, somehow. All those things I did to you…” He looks at Sam. “You…” He looks at Dean, “And to…” He trails off then, unable to make eye contact with Jack. “My son.” It comes out barely a whisper. Jack looks uncomfortable and remains behind Sam.

Michael gets up and speaks loudly to get everyone's attention. “Alright, as much as I wish there was more time to get re-acquainted, we need to make this brief. Raphael, Gabriel… Lucifer… our father is not who we believed he was. He's turned against us. All of us. He's wiped out all the other worlds he ever made, all his other drafts, and now this is it. We're standing atop the last vestige of creation. And unless we do something to save it, we're all dead.”

Raphael sneers at Gabriel and pushes aside the archangel blade. “This is ridiculous. Have you even tried talking to him? You're the favorite son, after all.”

Michael shoots daggers into his eyes. “I'm the favorite? He left me to slowly lose my mind in the Cage for centuries in Hell time.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Big bro has a point. Dad let me rot in a dungeon in Hell, too. I mean sure, that one was kinda my own fault, but still.”

Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Gabriel, this is serious, it's do-or-die time here.”

“And what is it that you suggest we 'do'?” Raphael asks sarcastically. “We barely beat the Darkness at the dawn of creation, and I've been told Father has since merged with her. This is a fool's errand, if so. You brought us back for nothing.”

Michael gestures to Dean. “We may have an ace up our sleeve, in the form of Dean. He knows the Darkness, has a bond with her. If we can hold our father at bay for just long enough, he might be able to convince her to separate from him of her own free will and end him.”

Lucifer speaks up. “Even if this is true… isn’t he still our father? Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt?” He looks from face to face, unaware of just how he sounds.

Dean shakes his head. “Well ain’t that absolutely precious, now he's a boy scout.”

Michael speaks commandingly again. “This isn't open to debate. Raphael, you always followed my orders, and I expect you to do so again. Am I being clear enough for you?”

Raphael finally nods, motioning for Gabriel to lower the blade and taking a seat.

Michael continues down the list. “Lucifer, you remember the atrocities you committed. None of it would have happened without the Mark. That's what our father did. He murdered your son in cold blood, too. He will again if you don't help us. Got it?”

Lucifer follows Raphael’s lead and nods his consent to the plan as well.

“And Gabriel…” Michael starts.

“No convincing needed here, I'm always up for rebellion,” Gabriel interrupts.

“Then we understand each other. But to go up against God and stand even a remote chance, we'll need to raid the armory of Heaven for all the divine firepower we can get our hands on. If the three of you help, we can devise a way to open a discrete portal into Heaven that God won't pick up on.” He addresses Sam and Dean. “It may take several hours, though. You two should take advantage of that and get some sleep.”

“If uh… if we're really looking for firepower,” Lucifer cuts in. “I stashed away a few things deep inside Hell that no one else but me would ever be able to find. I could take you to them. If you think it would help.”

As the archangels talk and continue to figure out the game plan, the Winchesters and Jack exit the room, albeit uneasily. Sam is the first to speak. “I know it sounds crazy but I kind of have a good feeling about this, you know?”

“Oh yeah, the whole world's been emptied out and God's waiting to watch us lose our minds, but now we're hosting an archangel slumber party where we get to take turns braiding Lucifer's hair. That’ll save us.” Dean’s willingness to joke may yet be a good sign.

“It's a better plan than the one we had yesterday.”

“We didn't have a plan yesterday.”

“Exactly.”

They notice Jack looking troubled and Dean stops to place a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, Jack. I agree with Sam. I hate this plan, but that doesn't mean it's a bad one.” He tries to adopt as optimistic a tone as he can. “You gotta keep the faith.”

Jack considers that. “Cas told me the same thing. Then he died. I don't want to lose either of you like I’ve lost him.”

Sam reinforces Dean’s argument, perhaps sensing Dean isn’t willing to talk about Castiel directly at the moment. “I promise you that no matter what happens, none of us are going to lose each other. We all come out of this… or none of us do. And I'm not prepared to acknowledge that second outcome yet. Okay?”

Jack agrees despite his reservations, and they walk off to their respective rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plans of archangels and men continue this time next week, in the conclusion to "Inherit the Earth"... and in the meantime, Happy Holidays!


	4. "Inherit the Earth" - Act III

The next morning, Jack sits in his room preparing for what comes next. Even without his powers, or without his useful powers, rather, he still retained the angelic trait of not needing to sleep. He may have slipped off into an extended daze lying on his bed thinking about the coming battle, but that’s about it. A picture of Kelly Kline has sat on his nightstand since he first arrived at the Bunker nearly three years ago, and he examines it now, trying to glean some inspiration from it. That’s when he hears the voice of his father.

“I'm sorry about your mother. She didn't deserve… what I made happen to her.”

“I’m what you made happen to her,” Jack says quietly, turning the picture away as if to protect her from Lucifer’s presence. “Are you apologizing for me?”

Lucifer looks away, hovering in the doorway. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jack tenses up and turns to face him. “Just don't talk to me about her. In fact, please don't talk to me at all. I’ll work with you to help Sam and Dean and save Earth, but that’s it.”

“I know you have every reason to hate me… and it probably makes no difference that I'm not the same as the Lucifer who hurt you… but I am not the same,” Lucifer insists.

Jack goes through a few replies in his mind. “How do I just put aside what you did?”

His father sighs. “I don't know how to answer that. I'm still having trouble putting aside what I did, to be completely honest with you.”

Jack takes one last look at the picture before getting up to grab his hunting bag. “It would be the first time you’ve been completely honest with me. If you've come to tell me they're ready to go, I'll be there in a moment.”

Lucifer looks at him earnestly, or at least he thinks that’s what earnestness looks like on his father’s face. “I came to tell you I'm sorry, Jack. Again.”

The Nephilim pauses and looks down at his feet. “You know, if Castiel were here right now, despite all he suffered at your hands, I'm sure he would be the first one telling me to give you a chance. He was… good like that.”

“Well. It's good to know there was one angel looking out for you, if not me.”

Jack looks at him harshly. “But he's not here.” He pushes past him to walk out.

As Lucifer starts to follow him out to the main hall and join the group, his path intersects with Sam's. Lucifer awkwardly nods politely, even knowing how stupid that must look, but Sam stops in his tracks for a moment.

“Before we get started on this mission, let me make one thing clear,” Sam tells him. “I believe Michael, that you've been restored to factory settings. I believe you regret what you did. I believe all that… but if I see one hint that your intentions are anything other than pure, especially where Jack is concerned, you won't have to worry about God killing you.”

He doesn’t wait for Lucifer to reply before turning and heading off, and Lucifer gives him a wide berth.

**...**

Once the seven of them convene in the main hall, Dean stands at the head of the table and addresses the archangels, not once questioning his own authority even as it applies to four hugely powerful multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. “Alright, Team Heaven over here, Team Hell over there. No time to waste here, people.”

Jack starts to follow Sam, but Sam directs him to an alcove to speak privately. “Jack… we can't let you go with us. It's not that Dean and I don't have faith in you… but without your powers, it would just be better to have you stay here and hold down the fort for now. You're too important, and if we can keep Chuck away from you, then we have to try.”

A wave of disappointment washes over Jack, but he solemnly nods, knowing it’s for the best and they’re right to exclude him. He would exclude him if he could. “…I understand. I know you're just doing what Castiel would have wanted.”

Dean calls over to Jack. “We'll be back before you know it. Just a quick little side trip to the afterlife and then it’s on to fighting the big man.”

Michael and Raphael use the spell they’d figured out over the previous night, utilizing their grace and a few other archaic ingredients, and open a portal to Heaven resembling the tear between universes Jack created back when he was still fully powered. Dean goes with them without further delay, having already said what he needed to say to Sam. Simultaneously, Sam follows Gabriel and Lucifer through an identical portal into Hell.

Jack stands in the middle of the now-empty Bunker. “I'll just… wait here then.”

**...**

Sam Winchester leads the charge into Hell, an occurrence that at this point has lost all sense of corresponding awe it once had for him. He isn’t quite sure when that happened. Walking through dark and gloomy corridors lined with cells, each one occupied by a tormented soul, he remembers the last time he took such an indirect approach to this place. Back when he came to collect Bobby’s soul. Then, he was scared for his life. Now, he’s flanked by two archangels.

Just then, three demons appear as they round the next corner, evil intent in their shining black eyes. Sam raises his blade despite knowing how unnecessary it is, but Lucifer steps out from behind him to reveal himself. The demons immediately freeze up, sputtering out words of worship and devotion. With a gesture, Lucifer waves them off and they flee to spread the word.

Sam beholds the sight and nods. “Huh. Yeah, maybe you go in front.”

As they resume walking, Gabriel turns to Sam. “So… how's things?”

“Things are bad, Gabriel,” He replies in typical deadpan.

He rolls his eyes. “I meant before Dad decided to make us the last men on earth. You've still been saving people? Hunting things? Keeping the family business going?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess. That doesn't really ever change.”

“I used to think sitting up in Heaven with my stuffy relatives wouldn't really ever change. Then I discovered how I could be the Trickster and never looked back.”

“Yeah well, you're not exactly the poster child for the virtues of taking the easy way out.”

Gabriel shrugs that off. “Alright, point taken. But the last time we spoke, when I was last alive, you told me it was time to grow up and quit with the holding pattern. So what's keeping you stuck in second gear, huh?”

“There was a time when I would have agreed with that,” Sam says. “Thinking hunting meant being stuck. But now… all I want is to beat Chuck and bring everyone back so that I can get back to hunting. Not get away from it.”

Gabriel nods as if that's an acceptable answer, but then tries a different tack a moment later. “Hey, you remember when I put you in that eternal Tuesday?”

“Are you trying to get me to kill you before we get where we're going?”

“You had a lot of ambition then. You were headed for big things.”

He chuckles at that. “Big things like kickstarting the apocalypse. As I recall, the point of the Mystery Spot trap was to show me what a mistake it would be to continue the path I was on. That was a good warning, and I didn't listen to you.”

“Sam, Sam… you're thinking too micro. Lucifer's vessel, normal life with a wife and a dog, leader of a hunter army, it doesn't matter where you're going, just that you always need to be going somewhere.”

Sam readies another retort to that, but is distracted by the appearance of yet more demons surrounding them. They all look stunned by Lucifer’s presence, and presumably pose little in the way of threat. He’s about to keep on moving when he hears another voice he’ll never forget.

“Samuel, you had better have a good excuse for why Lucifer is among the living again and for why you've led him right into my royal court.” Rowena appears through the crowd of demons in a long black dress, smile as infectious as ever.

“It's good to see you, Rowena. Lucifer is, best as we can tell, harmless. I'm sure you can sense it for yourself.” He motions for her to inspect Lucifer as she pleases.

Rowena looks Lucifer up and down. “Yes, now that you mention it I am detecting a tad less infernal malevolence radiating off this one.”

Lucifer strikes his now-practiced look of repentance. “…Thanks.”

“But I'm much more interested in you.” She pushes past the first archangel she made the object of her affections and directs an eyebrow wiggle to the more recent one.

Gabriel returns her look. “Naturally. Once you've had the best… well, you know.”

Sam attempts to break up the reunion in favor of more pressing business. “I wish there was time for you two to catch up… actually I don't… but we're here to find some weapons to kill God and then we have to be on our way. Would you please let us pass?”

“Oh, killing Charles, are we? Well you boys do know how to get yourselves in a wee spot of trouble, don't you?” She replies in chipper fashion. With a snap of her fingers, perhaps an affectation picked up from Lucifer, she wordlessly orders the demons aside to let them proceed.

Sam nods in gratitude. “Thanks. Once again, I owe you one.”

“Think nothing of it, Samuel. Give me five minutes alone with dear Gabe here and I dare say we'll call it even.”

“I resent that slight regarding my stamina!” Gabriel calls back before Sam shoots him a glare and he heads off with Lucifer to find the weapons.

“All jests aside, this might be a bit heavier of a lift than even you and your brother can handle. Are you sure there's no other way?” She seems genuinely concerned for him.

“You have as much of a stake in this as I do. You're the Queen, don't you want more souls to keep coming your way from topside?” Sam asks. “If Chuck has his way there'll never be a soul going anywhere ever again.”

Rowena scoffs at that. “I'm not talking about meeting quotas in Hell, Samuel. I'm talking about never seeing you again. We've said goodbye too many times now, you and I.” She touches his arm affectionately.

Sam smiles gently in response. “I wouldn't count on that. After all, if I die, I'm probably coming right back here anyway.”

“Now that's the spirit! Go and help your little friends.”

He heads off at a quick pace to catch up with Gabriel and Lucifer.

**...**

Dean Winchester leads the charge into Heaven, an occurrence that at this point only carries with it bitterly tinged memories of Cas. It struck Dean as almost funny. He’d spent so much time with the angel over the years, but had never visited the place he called home for so many centuries prior to meeting him. Sure, he had gone there when he died, but never behind the scenes. As he walks the almost blindingly white corridors flanked by Michael and Raphael, he can only think to himself that Cas was right. This place really is a void. A brighter Hell.

Raphael looks around in despair. “There are so few angels left up here… how could we have allowed our number to become so depleted?”

“A genocide or two here, a Great Fall there, it just piled up,” Dean replies with barely concealed derision. “Not that I ever shed a tear, you understand.”

“Just as I would never shed a tear for the current lack of humans down on Earth, then.”

Dean simply nods. “Real glad we understand each other.”

Michael snaps at them. “Will both of you quit bickering, we have a job to do up here.”

“It feels like we've been walking down the same hallway for an hour! How deep is this damn armory buried, anyway?” He asks.

Michael looks almost equally frustrated. “They must have changed its location since I was last in Heaven… it must be just a little farther.”

Adam takes over in a flash. “Or we could go back and try another way. Your knowledge of the layout here is clearly outdated.”

Michael again: “I spent millennia here, I think I know where I'm going.”

Adam: “You can't get a lie past me, remember?”

“And he tells me not to bicker…” Dean mutters under his breath.

At last, they come upon a big and imposing-looking door with two angels stationed at the ready outside of it, armed with blades. Michael's eyes glow bright blue. “I'd really hate to have to smite you, brothers, but if you don't move out of the way you'll regret it. And this place can't spare too many more of us.” He’d been away from Heaven for so long but still knew how to act as if he owned the place. The angels back away, sufficiently intimidated, and Michael throws the doors open. The three of them enter the chamber, which stretches out in several directions as far as the eye can see. An infinite chamber designed to house weapons of divine power… and the shelves are all empty. Not a single object left.

Dean looks about with some surprise, squinting his eyes for effect like he’s looking at a blurry photograph. “Please tell me only angels can see the God guns?”  
Michael is uncharacteristically angry at this development. “What the hell is going on here, I can't sense the armory anywhere now!” He turns to go find those two angels who fled, but the doors close shut before he can do so, and he can’t open them back up.

Raphael smirks. “That might just be because I alerted our father in time, so he would know to destroy it before you got your blasphemous hands on such power.”

Not missing a beat, Dean lunges at him, but is effortlessly tossed aside. “You dick, do you have a death wish or something?!”

Raphael groans, almost pained at having to hear an ape speak. “Hardly a death wish. Heaven, as it is right now, is as good as dead. The angels are nearly wiped out, our powers are severely diminished… it’s a shambles, a shadow of its former self, because of you Winchesters. I reached out to Father. He's going to restore the Heavenly Host to greater glory than it's ever seen before after he's done with your lot.”

“He's lying to you!” Michael shouts. “He doesn't care about you or me, or any angel! I know, I saw it myself! He doesn't care about any of us!”

“I once respected you so much, brother. And I did follow your orders, dutifully. But you've been sharing a vessel with a Winchester for so long… so I suppose it's only natural, if unfortunate, that the trash corrupted you.” Raphael spreads his wings in a display of power and raises his hand as if to smite Dean, but Michael swipes at him with the archangel blade he had concealed in his jacket and leaves him with a cut across his arm. Raphael gasps in pain and recoils, giving Dean a chance to run. Michael follows suit and the two flee.

**...**

In Hell’s throne room, Lucifer is focusing intently on the wall in front of him, which eventually dissolves into a puff of smoke. Behind it is the artifact stash. “There's enough divine and demonic energy in any one of these to take out just about anyone,” he tells his companions.

“Anyone short of God himself, you mean,” Gabriel adds.

“Obviously.”

Rowena steps into the hidden room, mouth agape as she takes in the large collection. “I had no idea that was there. I do hope you plan on leaving that particular cupboard unlocked when you leave. We'll call it even for you having murdered me twice.”

Sam eyes the collection with approval. “Gabriel, Lucifer, grab as much of it as you can and--” He's cut off mid-sentence by a sudden rumbling underneath their feet. It feels like an earthquake, or perhaps a Hellquake, given the circumstances. “Rowena, what is this?”

The Queen of Hell looks around in confusion. “There's no such thing as tremors in Hell…” She clutches her head as if suffering a migraine. “Oh no.”

Sam’s fight-or-flight instinct starts to kick in. “What? What oh no?”

Rowena motions for them to follow her. “Come. Come quickly, the three of you need to take your leave of Hell, right this instant.”

“Damn it Rowena, why?!”

“Because if you don't you'll be killed. Hell is breaking down as we speak.”

Gabriel blinks. “…That's enough of an invitation for me. Let's get moving, gang.”

Rowena looks up at the dust, or ash, upon closer inspection, starting to fall on their heads from the ceiling above. “It's not exactly that Hell itself is breaking down, it's more like… like the boundary separating Hell from Earth! Samuel, if the boundary collapses, the dimensions will merge. Inseparably.”

Sam's eyes widen. “It's Chuck. He knows what we're planning.” Before those words have fully left his mouth, a crack opens up in the ground beneath them and flames shoot out of it.

Rowena casts a quick spell to open up a portal to Earth. “Take your trinkets and run!”

Lucifer and Gabriel go through with as many artifacts in their arms as they can manage to carry, but Sam pauses and looks to Rowena. “You'll die.”

“I've been dead ever since you killed me, Samuel. It's not like there's anything new under the sun, now would you please--” There's a much bigger quake suddenly, and she shoves him through the portal. Sam watches flame consume her as he passes through to the other side.

**...**

In Heaven, Dean and Michael run for their lives down yet another seemingly unending stretch of white corridor. “You're sure this way leads to another exit, right?” Dean shouts.

“Yes I'm sure, now keep moving!”

“As sure as you were about the armory?!”

Michael grabs Dean and pulls him through a side door, which leads them down into the first part of Heaven he’s seen that isn’t uniformly white. There’s what looks like stone, plus what looks like iron bars, which is enough for Dean to quickly surmise they’re in Heaven's dungeon. “Still going to be a Doubting Thomas?”

“Cas told me about this place… there's an escape route down here?”

“Last place anyone would think to check, wouldn’t you say?”

A voice calls out, putting Dean on alert before he realizes it sounds female, and therefore not Raphael. “…Lord Michael?” They turn to take a look, and sitting in one of the dungeon cells is an angel Dean recognizes only too well: Castiel’s torturer, Naomi.

Michael rushes over to her cell. “Naomi? You were one of the most influential angels in the Host, how did you get put down here?”

Dean smacks his hand against the wall. “Is this really the time?!”

“Yes, because she was Raphael's most trusted adviser. She'll know how to use the exit.”

Naomi’s astonishment turns to bewilderment. “Raphael has been dead for years…”

Just about on cue, the door at the top of the staircase shatters into dust after a burst of angel power, and Raphael strides into the dungeon. “Miraculously, I live.”

Michael stands firmly between his brother and Dean, and the two archangels lock blades in combat. Their fighting style is brutal, efficient, and fast. Dean would almost be inclined to sit back and watch just how this plays out if he had the luxury, but right now the only issue at hand is survival. Turning, he reaches through the bars and grabs Naomi by her collar. “You’re gonna tell me how to get out of here and you’re gonna start talking now.”

Naomi can scarcely believe her eyes. “How did Michael get out of the Cage? How was Raphael resurrected? Why are they fighting each other?!”

Before Dean can reply, Heaven starts to rumble and shake. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were at the epicenter of an earthquake. But he does know better. This is Chuck shaking the ant farm. “Because God is bringing the whole house down on us so he can start from scratch. So unless that sounds like a good idea to you…” He puts his blade to her neck.

Raphael notices the tremors and looks perplexed, enough of a distraction for Michael to blast him into the wall with a burst of energy from his hand, leaving his brother stunned. “Do you see now? Does this look like Heaven being restored to anything but rubble?”

“I… I don't understand, why is the boundary destabilizing?”

Naomi, having been convinced enough both by threat and by the quake, cuts her palm and draws a symbol on the dungeon wall in her blood. It begins to glows blue with grace and opens up with a blinding flash into a portal to Earth. “There’s your exit. I assume Castiel is on the other end waiting to enact some foolhardy plan?” She asks.

Dean glares at her. “No, he’s not. He’s dead. He died trying to help stop this, which is more than any of you dicks up here ever did.” He ignores her shock and calls out to his ally. “Michael, Adam, whoever's listening, come on!” Dean immediately jumps through. Michael attempts to follow, but just as he’s about to make the leap he’s tackled by a vengeful Raphael and both of them go tumbling through the portal.

Naomi has an opportunity to use it for escape as well but chooses to let it close, standing transfixed by the cracks beginning to form in the floor and walls. The divine light of God shines through, ready to tear it all asunder. She puts her hands together in prayer. “You were right, Castiel. You were--”

**...**

In the middle of a clearing in an otherwise dense forest on Earth, two portals open up in sync with each other and disrupt the serene peace of the idyllic scene. Six men come crashing back to the mortal world, human and archangel alike in something of a daze, all trying to regain their senses of equilibrium. Raphael starts to get up first, but Michael summons enough strength to sucker-punch his brother in the stomach and make him collapse back to the ground.

Gabriel rolls over onto his back in pain. “Hey! Way to be a team player, Mike.”

Michael grimaces. “He betrayed us to God. Heaven is collapsing as we speak.”

Sam gets back up to his feet. “Same story in Hell. So where does that leave us now?”

Dean finds Sam and hugs his brother tight. “Glad to see you made it out, Sammy.”

Sam returns the hug in kind and motions for Lucifer and Gabriel to open the sacks they’ve been holding. “We found Lucifer’s party favors while we were down there.”

“You had better luck than us then. Hope it's enough.”

The voice of God pierces the air. “Oh it won't be.” Chuck appears, walking toward them.

Raphael looks at his creator and bows down. “Father, what is happening to Heaven? If the boundary between dimensions breaks down… Heaven will be unsalvageable.”

God nods. “Yeah, that's what we in the biz refer to as a plan coming together.”

Michael faces them. “He doesn't care about anyone or anything other than himself. Never has.” Raphael looks crestfallen, but Michael clasps his hand on his shoulder and urges him to get up. “Come on, brother. We have a chance, let’s not waste it.”

Lucifer steps forward. “How could you do this? You created us. We never did anything to displease you! I would never have been corrupted if not for your Mark on my arm!”

God regards him with surprise. “Oh wow, you're here, huh? And you're all… pure. That’s uh… almost enough to make you an interesting character. Good job, champ. There’s still a good reason I decided to write you out, though.”

Dean and Sam look to each other, then at God. Sam says “We're not letting you end all this without a fight. None of us are.”

God gives a slight shrug in response. “Gonna be a short fight. And not just because I could curbstomp the lot of you with my pinky finger, but because ‘all of this’ is already ending.” He points up, and they see bolts of lightning start striking and exploding in the distance upon impacting Earth. The sky begins getting cloudy, then fills with abnormal colors. “You see, when I caught wind of your little conspiracy from Raphael, I figured I'd better get that train going. I've written enough stories to know it's never good to gloat to the bad guy before you've enacted your plan to defeat him, so.”

Dean is taken aback. “The bad guy?! You're the only bad guy I see here.”

God shakes his head with pity. “Spoken like a true villain. You see, Dean, this is my universe. Always has been. I wrote this story, so I'm the hero of it. You could never wrap your little brains around that though, because your egos didn't allow you to process it any other way than you being the protagonist. But at the end of the day, you're all the villains. Once Heaven and Hell collapse in on each other and this world, I'll have finally wiped out the scourge of evil. Now that's worthy of a finale, am I right, guys?”

Sam and Dean and the archangels stand together to face God, who looks up at the chaos unfolding in the sky above and smiles wide.

“All that's left is the big finish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fade to black, cut to credits...
> 
> Check in this time next week for the true beginning of the end, my redux of the Supernatural series finale. Hopefully this has been scratching the itch I know many of us have had for a different kind of ending to the saga we all love. As ever, feedback is much appreciated. See you in the new year.


	5. "Carry On" - Teaser

In the history of creation, the most important things are also often the most innocuous. And the single most important object in pretty much the whole universe, as decreed by God himself, is a black, four-door, Chevrolet Impala. It rolled off the line at the General Motors assembly plant in Janesville, Wisconsin on April 24, 1967. Six years later it would fall into the ownership of John Winchester, an ex-marine and unknowing Legacy of the Men of Letters. He was talked into purchasing it by his eldest son, who, incidentally, hadn’t been born yet. It’s a car, as one might say, with character to it, right down to the Lego bricks stuck in the vents and the army man crammed in the ashtray. Like its drivers, it has seen its fair share.

On a warm June night in 2002, the Impala sat in the parking lot of yet another in a long line of tacky motels, this one on the edge of some forgotten rural town in Nevada. Blood-red neon light glowing down from the sign set the scene, along with the angered shouting coming from one of the rooms. Finally, after the arguing reached a fever pitch but just before it boiled over, the door flew open and a nineteen year-old Sam Winchester came marching out. He walked past the Impala, assuming he would never see it again, and slung a duffel bag over his shoulder containing the remnants of his complicated youth.

Moments later, a twenty-three year-old Dean Winchester followed him out in a hurry, feeling deep in his gut that if he stayed in the room with his father, he would likely never see Sam again. He shouted to be heard over the ringing in his own ears. “Sam! Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Dad isn’t finished talking to you!”

Sam shrugged, not turning around or slowing down. “Well I'm finished talking to Dad.”

“And what about me, huh? You finished talking to me?”

Sam sighed and finally stopped, if only long enough to make sure his brother understood the seriousness behind his words. “You know what, Dean? If all you're going to do is stand there while he insults me and occasionally join in, then yeah, I am.”

Dean shook his head, unable to comprehend his brother’s decision-making. “Do you have any idea how stupid you're being right now? You're going to hitchhike all the way to California and go to some fancy college where you don't even know anyone?”

“Really?!” Sam laughed bitterly at that. “I don't know anyone anywhere. Dad made sure neither of us did! What difference would this make?”

“We may not have had a lot of friends, but we learned how to stay alive!”

“Normal people stay alive every day without knowing how to kill a Wendigo, Dean!”

“Well guess what Sammy, neither of us are normal. And you're not a damn kid anymore, so stop pretending like you'll ever be normal and get your ass back inside.” His voice went cold.

Sam stared at him for just a moment, but long enough to fully make up his mind. “You've just turned into a miniature version of him… I feel sorry for you.” He turned around and returned to walking, the only concern on his mind where to locate the nearest bus stop.

That was when Dean became truly hurt and raced to catch up with him again. “You and Dad can bitch at each other all you want, okay? You don't think he did anything for you? Fine, that’s your opinion. But you and me? We’re supposed to stick together. We’re brothers.”

“You never even wanted me around.”

Dean would have thrown something if there had been something around to throw. “I gave up everything to take care of you, for your whole life. And you don't even care!”

“I was the burden you had to carry, not your brother. Well now you're unburdened, you can finally start taking care of yourself. You're welcome.” Sam felt he was being honest.

“If you keep walking, dad won't come looking for you. I won't come looking for you. I'm not just talking here, I will not come back for you.”

Sam kept his back turned to Dean, but the gravity of the situation began setting in at this point and the younger Winchester did his level best to hold back tears. “Then this is goodbye, Dean.” He paused, then added: “Don't let yourself get killed on one of dad's hunting trips…”

Dean looked at the amulet around his neck, the most meaningful gift he had ever received in his young life, that he had worn faithfully for the past ten years. He gripped it tight, tempted to throw it off, but didn’t. His hand simply fell to his side, and he stood there in the warm summer night, watching as Sam kept going. That night, the world was very small for both of them.

**...**

Grass. Vibrant, growing, green grass. It sways in the wake of a light breeze, a testament to the perseverance of life on Earth. A shadow falls across the grass, accompanied by the sound of strained, heavy breathing. A pair of lungs that by all logic shouldn’t be capable of taking in air any longer. Then, a bloody hand digs into the soil, gripping tightly to gain the traction needed to drag the body of Sam Winchester across the vibrant green. Ignoring great pain, he makes his way over to his brother. Dean Winchester lies a few feet away, flat on his back, clinging to life by an equally thin thread. The elder brother rolls over with a great effort in order to see Sam, to look into his eyes. Each Winchester reaches out an arm toward the other, and their hands clasp.

As Dean continues his strenuous effort to move, his jacket pocket snags on a root sticking out of the dirt. Out of that pocket falls the most meaningful gift Dean’s ever received in his not-so-young life, that he has kept faithfully for the past four years since he recovered it in that police station in Hope Springs, Idaho. The breathing from lungs that should not by all logic continue to work continues, steadily. The amulet catches and reflects the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Cue Title Card..._
> 
> (Apologies for the delay in this chapter! Ao3 was down last night when I was all set to post and today got away from me. I'll be posting Act I this Friday instead to make up for it. Stay tuned!)


	6. "Carry On" - Act I

Jack, the child of Lucifer, sits in his bedroom, hands clasped in a silent prayer to his father. “Cas… I know that you can't hear me. It took me channeling my full powers to wake you up in the Empty last time, and right now I'm pretty powerless. And even if you did hear me, it probably wouldn't make a difference. But you told me I had an important role to play once, and I… I never quite believed you.” He opens his eyes for a moment, rubs the wetness away with his shirtsleeve, and continues speaking. “In a way… I felt free to not have to believe in myself, because I knew you would always believe in me. But now you're not here, and it's just me. And I don't think I know how to believe the way you did. I wish I could.” He gets up off the bed, unable to think of what else to say. On the way out, he casts an eye toward the trenchcoat that’s now draped over a chair. “But then, you understood a lot of things I never could…”

There’s a rocking earthquake beneath his feet so powerful that Jack is knocked to the ground. The Bunker's ominous red floodlights come on and an alarm signal blares through the halls. He can’t help but remember the last time these alarms came on: when he himself broke free of the Ma’lak box, full of fear and confusion and anger. That was the closest he’d gotten to becoming a monster. Jack goes running as the shaking continues. “Sam?! Dean?!”

He emerges into the main hall and sees a sight he’d consider tragic if his own survival didn’t happen to be on the line as well. Bookshelves falling over, priceless magic artifacts and personally relevant items alike shattering upon impact with the ground, even one of the large stone columns cracking loose off of its foundation to come crashing down on a library table. Panic, and an even greater sense of helplessness than usual, grips Jack as he wonders what to do. Obviously the first thing he needs to do is escape. Then find Sam and Dean. Plan A, escaping through the main exit, falls through when Jack tries to flee up the spiral staircase but is sent tumbling backward by the collapse of another column that blocks his path with rubble. He turns and makes a mad dash out the side door to implement Plan B.

The Men of Letters who occupied this place before Sam and Dean took over filled their garage with all manner of vintage automobiles, all of them immaculately maintained. But the only car Jack is interested in down here is newer than the others by a couple of decades. He finds a spare set of keys on the rack and gets behind the wheel of the Impala. “Forgive me, Dean… I'm pretty sure you'll kill me for this if you're not already dead.”

Mumbling the various tips and lessons he received on driving last year from Dean under his breath like a Zen Kōan, he peels out of the garage and speeds out onto the open road. With the Bunker left behind, Jack tries to steady himself and drive a little more calmly. Before he can even think of it, a signal not unlike the one he recently received from his uncle enters his brain and lets him know just where to go. At that moment, he believes he’ll find Sam and Dean alive.

**...**

On a normal day, this forest would have been populated only by a smattering of deer, rabbits, and the occasional hiker on a nature walk. Today, in an otherwise serene clearing on the edge of that forest, overlooking a nearby lake, the battle that will determine the fate of all this creation is joined. It is waged by two sets of brothers, in common cause against their creator.

“That plan we discussed,” Michael says to Dean under his breath. “Now would be the best time. And you're going to want to get a safe distance away for it.”

Dean is undisturbed. “No such thing as a safe distance from God.”

Chuck speaks up sharply. “Yeah, I'm the Lord, so I can hear all of your little whispers. But go ahead, please keep conspiring, by all means.”

Sam and Dean back up and beat a hasty retreat out of what will soon be the field of battle. Their escape is covered by the archangels, who then converge on their father. Michael looks to Lucifer and smiles in gratitude. “It's good to have you back, brother. Side by side, like this. Like it was always supposed to be.”

Lucifer nods. “I don't think we were always supposed to be teaming up to kill Dad, but you know what the humans say…” His eyes flare blue. “Needs must when the devil drives.”

Gabriel laughs ecstatically. “Ha! He's got his sense of humor back! Finally.”

Wasting no further time, Michael hits God with a full blast of energy. Raphael doubles his attack a microsecond later, both unleashing the fury of Heaven on Heaven’s king. God blocks each blast bearing down on him by extending both hands outward, palms up. “You're gonna have to do a little better than that if you wanna teach your old man a lesson.”

Just as the words leave his mouth, Chuck feels a tapping on his shoulder and turns to see Gabriel, who sucker-punches him in the face from behind. He swivels back around just in time for a second Gabriel to punch him again in the stomach, and then a third Gabriel from the side. With a snap of his fingers, however, the illusions dissipate. “Still with the tricks? Really?!”

A ways away, Sam and Dean crouch behind a few bushes, despite realizing how very inadequately that would serve as cover if it really came down to it. “You know what to do. I'm gonna start praying to Amara,” Dean says. “If it works, you have to watch my back.” Sam nods in agreement and stands at the ready, with his archangel blade for defense, as Dean sits on the ground and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and starts praying. The sounds of the battle drown out into silence as Dean attempts to draw into himself. Amara.

_Listen to me. I'm sorry for what we did. For what I did. Talk to me. Let me in. You have to help. Please._

**...**

Out of an almost certainly mutual desire to express their anger through the most direct and violent way possible, Michael and God are now trading physical blows as the other three archangels launch blasts of energy from all sides to try and keep their father off balance. Chuck intercepts Michael’s fist before it can strike him and squeezes, snapping bone. “You were the good son, you know. You were the only one who never dared disobey an order.”

Michael grits his teeth and wrenches his hand free. “And what did it get me? You've never rewarded loyalty. You've only punished as a first resort and turned me against my own brother. When Lucifer asked me to stand with him the first time, I should have done it.”

God laughs. “You mean back when Lucifer actually had the balls to stand up for himself? I don't know how the Empty neutered him, but you might as well have brought a puppy! At least the old Lucifer could fight dirty and didn’t have to rely on--” Before he can complete his insult, an archangel blade comes jutting out of his chest.

Lucifer, who has impaled him with it through the back, leans in close to say “I remember how to fight dirty, Dad. Difference is I just feel bad about it now.”

Although the wind has certainly been knocked out of him and he stumbles backward a bit, Chuck looks even more resolved than before to see his children dead. He looks down at the blade sticking out of him with a sense of vague surprise. “Point taken…” Lucifer goes to twist the blade in further, but God grabs him by the arm and presses a hand to his forehead as if to smite him. Lucifer begins glowing and cries out in pain.

“No!” Michael shouts and lunges, tackling his father out of the way before the smiting is completed. Lucifer gasps and stumbles away from the fight, his skin starting to crack in several places as he struggles to keep his grace contained enough that his vessel doesn’t explode.

Meanwhile, Sam waves his hand in front of Dean's face, getting no response. “That's good, hopefully that means it's working,” Sam mumbles to himself, keeping one eye trained on the showdown taking place a ways away. Dean slumps over, so Sam gently takes him and leans his body against a tree. As he's doing that, he hears something and whirls around, ready to strike with his blade, only to see Lucifer collapse to the ground before him. “Lucifer?!”

The cracks in the archangel’s vessel are growing, and the energy he's expelling is taking its toll now. He groans and glances up at Sam. “S-Sam… do you… have Amara?”

Sam kneels beside him and examines his injuries, occasionally checking to make sure Dean is still alright as he does. “No, not yet… Can you get up? They still need you out there.”

He tries to pull Lucifer to his feet, but Lucifer shakes his head. “Little too late for that, I think. Old man broke this meat suit… Listen to me, Sam… when you see Jack…”

Sam gets panicked. “No, no no no, the archangels need you in the fight.”

Lucifer clutches at his side as the cracks grow deeper. “Sam… I had my chance.”

Sam looks at Dean, propped up against the tree, and then at Lucifer. He grits his teeth and stares down at the ground, trying to make a tough decision he swore he’d never make again.

Lucifer says “You need to tell Jack…” But Sam cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Yes.”

“…What?”

Sam grips Lucifer’s shoulder. “Yes, you know what it means, yes! Now do it!”

**...**

Back in the heat of the battle, Raphael is knocked down and falls. Managing to steady himself on one knee rather than collapsing completely, he steels himself and looks up to see God towering over him. “You know what your problem always was, Raph? You bought the company line too much. You tried to make Heaven into eternal order, but I tried to teach you that the state of the universe is entropy. Tried to teach all of you that.” He shakes his head regretfully. “And yet you just kept trying to push that boulder up that hill.”

A burst of power pushes God back a step, and Gabriel presses his advantage, sending blast after blast God’s way and not letting up. “I gotta say, when Dad's right, he's right. Why be an agent of order when chaos is just so much more satisfying?”

Michael helps Raphael back up to his feet and shouts to both of them. “Hold the line! He can't hold us off forever! We just have to stay alive and wear him down!”

Chuck cracks his knuckles. “I suppose this is what you get for sparing the rod too much. What I did to Lucifer is going to look like a mercy kill compared to--”

“What did you do to me again?”

He turns and sees Sam Winchester, or at least Sam’s vessel, with fiery blue eyes and a wingspan spreading out to full length. Lucifer backhands Chuck so hard that he draws blood. Chuck winces in what might actually be pain and wipes the blood off his mouth, looking at his hand in shock. “Would you look at that… you upgraded to the true vessel.”

The other three archangels once again pounce on God, emboldened by their replenished number, and try to take advantage of his moment of weakness while they still can.

**...**

Dean lies unconscious under the tree where his brother left him. That tree, the grass under him, and everything else around him begins to grow darker until it disappears completely and Dean is encircled by a familiar black smoke. He remembers it from the first time he met her. His eyes open suddenly and he sits up to see Amara standing there. “It actually worked.”

“You rang, Dean?” She asks dispassionately.

Dean looks around at the blackness, unsure of himself. “Is this...?”

“A construct. I'm channeling myself into your mind. You're still sleeping through your last day on Earth.” She crosses her arms, waiting to hear something worthy of her time.

He looks her in the eye. “But you're not sleeping, are you? Chuck hasn't eaten you up. You're still wide awake in there with a front row seat to his temper tantrum, and doing nothing.”

“There's nothing either of us can do about it now, so why don't you just accept your fate? The next world will be better than this one… I'll make sure of that, I promise you.”

“You know that's a lie just as much as I do!” Dean snaps at her. “Chuck's using you for a power-up and nothing else. You're never getting back out if you keep saying yes to him!”

Amara scowls. “So I should have… done what? Chosen oblivion instead, chosen to get wiped out of existence right beside my brother by a Nephilim black hole?”

“Damn it, you know that wasn't an easy choice for me to make!”

“Betrayal rarely is, Dean.”

He clenches his fist and tries to calm down, knowing the fate of everything and everyone could be riding on how persuasive he can be. “But it's different now, you have to listen to me. Chuck can still be defeated and we can all still survive this.”

Amara sighs in disbelief. “Oh? You suddenly have a new plan up your sleeve that doesn't require sacrificing me on the altar of your precious free will? Please share.”

“We opened Death's book. The book for Chuck. We know how he's destined to die.”

Amara falters, not having expected that. “That's… impossible. How did you…?”

“Lucky me, I had a dead brother to pick the lock,” he smirks. “The point is that it's you. You kill him. That’s your destiny, Amara.”

Abject shock colors her face. “I… you can't be serious, that book must be a fraud.”

“Death doesn't lie! God will be consumed by the Darkness, that's what it says. You already let him consume you, now it's time for a little payback.” He takes a step closer to her, feeling like she’s on the verge of agreeing. “You know you want to. He’s not worth this.”

She only looks sad now. “Dean, even if I did want to, it's literally impossible. I chose this. I chose to merge with him. There's no letting me out unless both of us agree to it. And he's not going to budge if it would result in his demise. The book is wrong.”

Dean shakes his head in frustration, or maybe denial. “The only thing you're choosing right now is weakness. You said it yourself that you saw more beauty in his world than he ever did! So now you have to fight for it!”

Amara starts to insist that she can't when suddenly the black smoke surrounding them begins to lighten and bright white shines through. Dean has never felt more fear at the sight of light dissolving dark. “See, sis? All you get with him is more brow-beating. They're all like that.”

Amara turns to Dean. “He's trying to break through.” She extends her hand as if to push him out and back to the waking world, but finds herself unable to act.

Chuck’s voice grows louder, permeating the bubble of Dean’s mind they’ve been hiding in. “No, you're not getting that easy of an out. You try to turn my own sister against me? Do you have any idea who you're playing with?” He materializes fully and stares Dean down. "I'm not some yellow-eyed demon or fallen angel you can shoot, stab, behead, or otherwise screw around with at your leisure. I am the Omega.” He raises his hand, points his finger at Dean's forehead, and makes contact...

At that moment, Dean's eyes open in the real world and he sees God's fist coming at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end approaches... next Friday, same time, same place!


	7. "Carry On" - Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested in a more immersive reading experience, imagine/listen to "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits playing from the scene starting with "A shadow falls across the grass" up until "He’s overwhelmed, trying frantically to get a handle on all of it". (Just because the show's finale wasn't up to snuff doesn't mean we can't appropriate an excellent soundtrack choice!)

The archangels, who had been fighting God just an instant ago, look in confusion at where their father was standing only to realize he’s gone to dole out punishment to their human ally. They try to attack again, but God holds a hand out to keep them at bay and unable to move. He turns back to Dean. “Go on. You have something to say to me? Say it, tough guy.”

Dean rubs his bloody nose. “I'm not gonna let this world end today.”

“Sorry. Only way to do that is to kill me.”

He flashes the trademark Winchester grin. “That's what I call a bonus.”

God balks at him. “You really are so obsessed with free will, aren't you? With getting out of the ‘hamster wheel’, as you call it.” A short chuckle. “Well let me tell you something, buddy boy, you want to see what the outside of this wheel looks like? It's not very pretty. Where exactly do you think you'd be without me? I’m the writer, I made you matter. Without me? You're dead within a week, laid low by the business end of a rusty nail! Some vampire who gets a lucky shot in a barn in Nowhereville! You'd die a meaningless and lonely death just like every other trailer park trash hunter whose footsteps you've trod in.”

Dean swallows and takes a deep breath to calm himself. Being rightfully intimidated by the Almighty isn’t going to slow him down now. “…And you know what? I'm good with that. It's called doing the right thing! Because it would be my death to write, not yours. I give my own life meaning, and my own death, too.”

“You wanna die just like anyone else? Fine by me. I'll kill you just like anyone else. No magic or divine might. Just you, me, and the old fashioned way.” Dean braces himself and throws a punch at Chuck, who immediately deflects it and hits back faster and harder. He does his very best to beat the sheer will out of Dean, brutalizing him for the pleasure of it and smirking at each sound of pain and cracking of bone. As Dean wobbles and shakes, trying desperately to stay standing, he suddenly smiles. God tilts his head. “What do you have to be happy about right now? Is this another repressed kink of yours?”

He simply looks past God and continues to smile through the blood at the sight of the Impala pulling up in the distance and coming to a stop. “Baby came to see me off…” he mutters.

Jack sees the bloodshed unfolding and gets out of the car to come running. “Stop! Stop hurting them! I'm the one who started all this by being born to begin with! Just kill me again and leave the world be! No one will bring me back this time, I promise you.”

God nods, considering that. “Hey there, grandson. Tempting offer, but I think I'm gonna just kill you _and_ the world now. Thanks for saving me the trouble of having to come looking for you, though!” He hurls Dean aside like a ragdoll and walks toward the boy. “I'll give you this, Jack. You actually came close to being a threat once upon a time. That's more than anyone else has ever accomplished, take pride in it. Now, do you want it fast or slow?”

Jack stands tall, unwilling to bend to the deity’s will but unsure of what options are left. He closes his eyes and takes a long breath.

God picks up a discarded archangel blade lying on the ground and shrugs. “That’s it? No preference? Suit yourself.” He throws it like a dart...

...only for Lucifer to suddenly pop out of view where he’d been standing and reappear right in front of Jack, taking the blade in his chest.

After glaring at his dying son, Chuck smacks his forehead. “Well that was a lame twist.”

Lucifer stumbles and lands against the hood of the Impala, clutching at the archangel blade and pulling it out with painful effort. Jack panics. “Sam?! Why would you…”

“Not Sam…” Lucifer corrects him, smirking.

Jack’s eyes widen. “…Father?”

“I never did anything to… to deserve being your father, Jack.” He winces and begins to glow through the stab wound. “Until now, maybe… just one thing…” He cries out, expelling his grace in a spectacular display, and when the blinding light fades all that’s left is Sam lying on the ground, Lucifer’s burned wing imprints on either side of him.

Jack kneels over him, shaking him by the shoulders. “Sam! Sam, are you alive? Sam!”

Sam can only look up at Jack as his vision goes blurry and then fades entirely.

**...**

Sam Winchester sits slumped against the Impala, feeling almost comforted by the cool metal pressing into the side of his face. Blood seeps from the open wound in his chest. There are no archangels or God or anyone to be seen now. Sam looks around with no small amount of confusion in his expression, trying to move but realizing what a terrible mistake that is.

A hand belonging to someone he didn’t see comes to rest on his shoulder. He turns, and has to blink several times before he can actually believe it’s her. “Jess…”

Jessica Moore sits down beside her boyfriend and touches his face. “You look like crap.”

“Yeah… comes with being stabbed,” he replies, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” She asks simply.

Sam stares at her, as if in a trance. “Are you really you, though? A ghost?”

“Does it really matter right now?”

“I guess not…” Sam looks transported back to another place now, another time. “So this is really it, huh?”

Jess thinks on her response. “For some things, maybe.”

He reaches over to touch her, afraid that she’ll vanish in a puff of smoke if he does, like a mirage of an oasis to a thirsty man in the desert. To his delight, she feels solid. “I’m sorry, Jess. I never got to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“That’s not important anymore. Look at how far you’ve come.”

“I crashed and burned. Just like you said I would without you.”

She caresses his cheek. “You didn’t crash. You soared. And I’m proud of you.”

A long moment passes before Sam speaks again. “You’re still the one I think of.”

“Think of?” She asks.

“When I think about a normal life. It still looks like you. It always looked like you.”

Jess smiles. “You're meant for more.”

His voice turns grave, full of regret. “You were meant for more.”

“Maybe. But that's why you're still here. To be more for both of us.”

At that, he feels the tears welling in his eyes and rests his head on her shoulder.

She strokes his hair. “But you're not done yet. You can't be done yet.”

He leans into the crook of her neck. Still the same smell. “What else can be done?”

“You'll think of something. You're still the man I love, after all.”

He closes his eyes again and wraps his arms around her in a deep embrace. “I love you.”

**...**

A shadow falls across the grass, accompanied by the sound of strained, heavy breathing. A pair of lungs that by all logic shouldn’t be capable of taking in air any longer. Then, a bloody hand digs into the soil, gripping tightly to gain the traction needed to drag the body of Sam Winchester across the vibrant green. Ignoring great pain, he makes his way over to his brother. Dean Winchester lies a few feet away, flat on his back, clinging to life by an equally thin thread. The elder brother rolls over with a great effort in order to see Sam, to look into his eyes. Each Winchester reaches out an arm toward the other, and their hands clasp.

In the distance, the archangels have finally been worn down, the battle having been lost the minute one of them fell and left the other three to fight without him. And yet still they fight without a hint of surrender, knowing that there is nothing else left for them to do. God kills Raphael first, gripping his forehead and smiting him. The burned out vessel falls, leaving a second set of wing imprints in the soil.

Gabriel, despite his eternal disdain for Raphael, gazes at his body with sorrow, and the smile finally falls from his Trickster’s face. But only for a moment. His eyes move to Sam, who he had written off for dead until now, along with Dean. Yet Sam moves, crawling toward Dean. Gabriel’s frown grows back into an incredulous smile, and he turns to face his father head on.

God looks at him with disappointment. “Still on ‘their side’, after everything?”

He nods, certain of it. “Yeah. Still after everything.”

God smites him as he did Raphael and casts him aside, a third set of burned out wings.

Michael is the last one standing now, and he makes Adam proud with his steadfast refusal to give in even now. After millennia spent wasting away in the Cage, this is surely nothing but a test of his will. God deflects his blows nonetheless and snaps his fingers to crack Michael open like Lucifer's first vessel. He lands on the ground and bleeds out grace profusely, Adam’s body ready to give way at any moment. “This is the end of the road, kid.”

Adam speaks out. “Try and keep holding on. We can do it.”

“I know how much I can take, and how much you can take,” Michael replies.

Adam refuses to budge. “No, Sam and Dean still need you.”

Michael shakes his head. “They need you, Adam.” With that, he burns out and dies, but with the last of his power preserves the vessel before it would have disintegrated along with its eternal inhabitant. Though unconscious, Adam slowly starts breathing, the fourth and final set of wings burned into the ground around him like an epitaph.

As Jack watches the last of the archangels die, he looks down and notices that the grass below his feet wherever he’s walked has died and turned brown. He flashes back to Michael’s words when reading from the final page of God’s book.

_Death's language is even older than my father, so it's ancient to me… When the creator is… consumed? Consumed by the Darkness. When the creator is consumed by the Darkness, he shall die and leave his creation behind._

The Nephilim walks past the four sets of ashen wings, and as he passes each one, they dissipate and flow into him, as if he were a magnet. He understands now. The book was not referring to Amara when it spoke of an all-consuming darkness. It was speaking of him.

As this is happening, Sam and Dean miraculously manage, by supporting and holding onto each other, to rise up to their feet. A stiff breeze may knock them down, but they stand before God in defiance. God can only look at them in apathy. He doesn’t care what drives them.

“I really am bored of you two. Whatever I do next, I'm gonna have to keep that in mind. Don't make it boring.” He turns frustrated. “What are you two still looking like that for?”

Sam coughs blood, but speaks. “Because you don't get your ending.”

Dean nods. “However you wanted your book to end… it probably wasn't this.”

“So screw you, Chuck,” Sam concludes, thinking those to be sufficient last words.

God sighs. “Well, they can't all be winners.”

He moves in to kill them, but feels a new presence behind him and turns, only for Jack to grab him by the head with both hands and hold on tight. He barely has time to struggle against the boy’s grip before his light slowly but surely begins to flow out of him, channeled through Jack's hands and into his body. Sam and Dean can only watch in astonishment and awe. When he's fully drained, Chuck looks like he's catatonic, glassy eyes wide open. He collapses in a heap. Jack's exposed skin is glowing and pulsing now with divine energies. He’s overwhelmed, trying frantically to get a handle on all of it.

The Winchesters, finally stirred out of their shock to action, hesitantly approach the boy that they’ve spent the past three years trying to protect. Sam reaches out. “J-Jack…?”

Jack turns with a start, making eye contact. “I… it's in me, now. I feel it. All of it…”

Dean looks at him with profound curiosity, his pain forgotten. “Are… are you God?”

Jack turns the question over in his mind several times before answering. “I don't know… am I?” He turns toward them, and with a mere look he heals them entirely of their wounds.

As the brothers get their bearings, Sam grabs Dean's arm to get his attention and points to their other sibling, sprawled out on the ground but definitely alive. Jack nods in understanding and directs his gaze toward Adam, who starts moving and raises his head.

Chuck comes out of his stupor as well. “What did you do? What did you do to me?”

Jack has walked off in some other direction, so Sam and Dean alone look down at Chuck and consider the unprecedented situation they find themselves in. Dean looks at his brother. “So, what is God without the God juice, Sammy?”

Sam returns his look. “I think that makes him a human like the rest of us, Dean.”

Chuck ignores their smugness and protests even more vehemently. “I can't feel anything! There's nothing! I can't see the… the infinite, the cosmic balance…” He then trails off, basically talking to himself now, in terms only he cares to understand.

Dean motions for Sam to follow him. “Come on, leave him. No one cares anymore.”

Leaving the former God behind to his ramblings, they turn their focus to their brother. Sam helps Adam to his feet and brushes the dirt off of him. “Adam, are you okay?”

Adam leans on Dean for a moment, but then is able to walk on his own. “I… somehow yes. I am. Never mind me though, what happened to God?” He asks, perplexed.

Dean shrugs. “Depends which one you're talking about, looks like.”

After a moment of contemplation, Sam looks at Dean and speaks the words he never dared speak until now. “Did we… did we actually make it?”

A genuinely optimistic smile, of the kind that’s been gone from Dean’s face for too long, starts to grow. “Well… stranger things have happened.” He claps his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Their moment of undiluted, uncomplicated happiness is cut short, as it was always bound to be in some form or another. The form it takes is another earthquake rumbling under their feet, which catches them entirely off guard. Before they can turn to Jack, they hear his pained cry.

The Winchesters rush over to Jack. “What's wrong now?!”

Jack is straining to speak, clutching his head in pain. “I can't bring back the boundaries… the ones keeping Heaven and Hell apart from Earth… It's all still coming down!” The lightning strikes all around them resume, and grow even louder than they were when Chuck was in charge.

Sam tries to get Jack to focus. “You have the power of God! Use it! You can do this.”

Jack nearly doubles over. “I'm… trying… but it's so much… I can't process it all!”

The deep irony of the fact that they’re the only ones keeping God on his own two feet is hardly lost on Dean, but he has no time to appreciate it. “Sam, what the hell are we supposed to do here? How can we help God, the kid should be able to do anything!”

“I have to… anchor the realms apart from each other. Heaven… Hell… Earth… It’s all one big tapestry, all of creation is just… just one ecosystem. Independent and reliant…”

Sam holds onto him with all he’s got. “We believe in you, Jack. We believe in you.”

“I’ll believe in him all day but he’s starting to sound like Chuck over there,” Dean says.

“Not really helping right now, Dean.” Sam glares.

Jack comes back to them and refocuses on the moment at hand. “Listen to me. Unless I can anchor Heaven and Hell in their proper places, the collapse will be unstoppable. Archangels would have been able to do it, but they're all dead… and no demon powerful enough still lives.”

Dean tries to keep his tone measured. “Make more then, you're God!”

Jack shakes his head. “Not nearly enough time… it would take too much of my strength, and I'm using all I have to stave off the collapse… which isn’t going to work for much longer…”

A thought occurs to Sam, one that seems utterly impossible and utterly obvious all at once. “Jack… you once made angels out of ordinary people.”

Dean looks at him with instant understanding. “…What are you saying?”

“I'm saying he needs two ‘anchors’ and there's only two options available here.”

Adam steps forward, having left the talking to his brothers until now. They know Jack better than he does, and he wouldn’t try to interfere unless the situation became truly dire, as it unfortunately just has. “No there's not. I'm here, too. And besides, I have more experience at the whole archangel thing than the both of you combined. You know it’s true.”

Dean instantly shakes his head. “Adam, no. No. You already put in your time, alright?”

Sam agrees, standing firm with Dean. “Yeah, we're not letting you throw yourself in another cage after everything you’ve gone through. That’s not what you deserve.”

“And what about what you guys deserve?” Adam asks.

Jack cuts in. “Whatever I'm doing, I'm going to have to do it very soon.”

“Well,” Sam turns to Dean. “What do you say?”

Some small conflict plays out on Dean’s face. He looks toward the Impala, parked off in the distance, and slowly nods. “No choice, right?”

Sam smirks. “We've always had a choice. That’s what this was about.”

They step forward. Dean fishes the car keys out of Jack’s pocket first and tosses them over to Adam. “Make sure Baby gets home alright, will you?”

“…I will,” Adam promises.

Jack takes Sam and Dean’s hands in both of his and squeezes, still struggling to handle the celestial power rushing through his veins. There's a flash of light that forces Adam to shield his eyes, and then they're gone, all three of them.

Adam stands alone in the forest, listening only to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. He looks around, taking it all in, and dabs at the tears on his face. Eventually, he walks over to the Impala his father owned and gets into the driver’s seat for the first time in his life.

**...**

The Impala pulls onto a main road, and Adam leans onto the gas a little for the long drive back to wherever it is he’s going. The Bunker, presumably. He promised Dean he would take it home. In the middle of this train of thought, though… a car passes him, headed in the opposite direction. Adam slams on the brakes and twists his head back in shock.

It takes less than thirty minutes to find the nearest town, but the suspense makes it feel like days. The streets are full of people going about their days as if nothing was amiss, as if the world was never in danger. It’s so loud outside that Adam almost has to cover his ears. He’d forgotten what being around so many people felt like.

After parking the car, he walks around among the people for the longest time, aimless and free. Looking up to the sky, he addresses them quietly. “You did it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the road? Not quite. Tune in this coming Thursday (couldn't resist posting on SPN's day) for the final act. Thanks to all those who have been reading. As always, feedback is life.


	8. "Carry On" - Act III

A dark and foreboding evening. The full moon shines down as the only source of illumination on an otherwise shadowy patch of countryside in Lawrence, Kansas. A local teen, farmer’s son, stayed out later than he should have for an illicit rendezvous with a girl from town his parents didn’t want him seeing. The girl was smarter than he was and made a beeline back to his truck as soon as the stranger appeared asking plaintively for help with directions. By the time the vampire bared his fangs to take advantage of the boy’s old-fashioned manners, she had hit the gas and left her lover for dead. Selfish perhaps, but smart; if she had waited for him to reach the truck as well, the vampire’s hidden partner surely would have been able to yank her through the driver’s side window. That isn’t much of a consolation to the farmer’s son though, who is now running for dear life back to his home. The farm tantalizingly sits just on the horizon.

The vampire knows his prey will never be able to make it in time, but isn’t interested in playing with his food this evening. He’s too hungry for that, and doesn’t want to share a meal. Closing the distance, he leaps at the boy and sends him crashing to the ground. His arm is badly scraped on the way down, and the smell of fresh blood fills the air. The vampire snarls and gets on top of his victim, pinning him down firmly and baring his fangs in a wide grin.

At the very least, he gets to die smiling. The farmer’s son is sprayed with blood as his would-be killer’s head comes off clean with one good slice. The corpse limply falls away, shrugged off with disgust by the boy. He isn’t capable of finding it funny how the head sort of rolls away, but she is.

Staring up in shock to get a good look at his rescuer, the boy sees a girl just about his own age, with shoulder-length blonde curls and eyes that seem to shine in the moonlight. She might be the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and she takes no small amount of pleasure in the look of awe playing out on his face. He scrambles up to his feet and profusely thanks her. “Oh my god! Oh Jesus… t-thank you! What the… what the hell was that? Who are you?”

Mary Campbell smiles as she wipes the blood-stained machete she just used on her pant leg, still catching her breath after that chase. “It’s okay, never mind me. Just get back home, alright? I’m pretty sure this one had a partner, so you’d best get your folks to lock their doors tonight. Not safe out here after dark.” She winks, full of confidence and adrenaline. Unable to bring himself to do anything but follow her instructions, he runs off to get home. Just as she’s getting ready to return to the hunt, however, she hears a voice that shouldn’t be familiar yet.

“Mom.”

She turns around. Sam and Dean are standing there, her adult sons. For a moment, she almost looks like she doesn't know them. She shouldn’t know them. But then it slowly clicks.

Dean looks around approvingly. “This was one of you first kills, huh? Good memory.”

Mary finally snaps out of the ‘greatest hits’ mode of going through her favorite memories that all souls enter in Heaven. When she realizes that Sam and Dean are standing there, also in Heaven, a frown falls on her face. “Oh no… oh no, please don't tell me…”

Sam smiles and gives her a reassuring hug. “No Mom, it's okay.”

Dean shrugs. “I don't know if you'd necessarily call us alive… but we sure ain't dead.”

Mary’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? How are you both here?”

In response, Dean’s eyes flash blue and his newly-acquired wings extend in silhouette to full length. Sam’s eyes flash pure white, just as the first and most powerful demon’s eyes did. Both try to pass it off as no big deal.

Mary can only gasp. “My god…”

Dean motions behind her. “That'd be him now, actually.”

Jack appears and gives Mary an awkward sort of look. “I found him,” he announces to her sons. Then out from behind Jack steps Bobby Singer, who looks to be at least as surprised as Mary at all of this.

“Bobby?” She asks in disbelief.

“Our Bobby, actually. The Bobby you knew is alive and well on Earth,” Sam clarifies.

Bobby extends his hand to her. “You must be Mary. I never had the pleasure, but I’ve heard a lot over the years, none of it bad. It's good to meet you.” He turns to Sam and Dean. “I knew you boys would come, eventually.”

“We're only sorry it took so long to get you out of whatever divine hole those dicks were keeping you stashed away in up here,” Dean says.

Bobby waves away his apology. “Never mind that, you had bigger fish to fry. Jack told me a little already but I’m sure there’s more. Apparently God's out of the picture?”

Mary blinks. “How did that happen?”

Sam laughs at that. “We'd love to tell you both more about it in person, actually.”

“In… person?” She asks.

“We're going on a ‘second chances’ tour. At least that’s what I call it,” Dean smirks. “To give everyone who should be alive another shot at it. And if you and Bobby don't fit that bill, no one does. We already have Charlie, Kevin, Ellen and Jo on board… so what do you say?”

Bobby is hesitant about the offer. “You talking… resurrection?”

“It's easier than you'd think it would be with the power of the Almighty at your disposal,” Jack explains in his usual chipper fashion.

Sam cuts to the chase. “You didn't die the way you should have. Either of you.”

Mary purses her lips in thought. “But… will you be there?”

“…We've got a… kind of important job to do. Up here,” Dean says, looking off.

“And uh… down there,” Sam adds with a half chuckle.

Mary holds both of their hands and smiles. “Then… the answer is no. What's the point in living again on Earth when my boys won't be there with me?”

Bobby chimes in with agreement. “The thing is, Sam, we did die the way we should have. At least I did. Saving people. Saving you idjits in particular. I put in my time.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Dean asks again. “This is a one-time offer, understand? Jack's not interested in being a hands-on kinda God, he's just doing this as a favor to us.”

Mary nods. “What choice is there at all? If I’m here, I can be with you.”

“I'm proud of all you boys have done,” Bobby says. “Prouder than you can imagine. Or maybe you can imagine it now, with those powers of yours.”

The brothers half expected this to happen, but it’s still a bittersweet moment for them. Sam tries to perk up and makes another offer. “Well… we were going to go see Dad next. I don’t think he'll say any different than you did, but… we could get a drink together? The Roadhouse, maybe. All of us, for once.”

Bobby and Mary both seem amenable to that idea. “I'd like that very much,” she says.

Jack steps away from the group. “You guys go on… I've got a few things to clear up still with the angels. Nuts and bolts stuff,” he explains.

Mary stops Jack and squeezes his hand in hers. “It's good to see you, Jack…”

His face lights up at her words, not in the celestial entity way but in the human way. “It's good to see you too, Mary.”

Sam, Dean, Mary, and Bobby all walk off together and fade into mist as they transfer to another Heaven. Jack watches them with a satisfied look.

**...**

In another part of Heaven, a chamber formerly designated as the throne room, Jack enters and looks at the throne itself with curiosity followed by dismissal. He’s only here for one reason. Jack presses his hand to the wall and concentrates deeply. A black portal then opens, leading to the Empty. A stark contrast to the bright white of Heaven. No sooner does it open up than black slime comes spilling out, and it coalesces into its usual favorite shape of late, the demon Meg.

The Empty takes in its surroundings. “So. You're the new sheriff in town, huh?”

Jack cuts it off curtly. “I didn't summon you for small talk.”

“Well too bad, because God or no God, that's all you’re getting from me. I did you a favor with the archangels, but now that your predecessor is out of the way, I’m out.”

“You're going to want to reconsider that. Relinquish your hold on Castiel.”

The Empty laughs in his face. “I made a deal with Castiel, a deal he freely and willingly consented to, I might add. And then I collected on it. A deal is a deal is a deal.”

Jack shakes his head slowly, considering what he might be willing to do. “You know… I don't like the name God much. But that doesn’t mean I won’t use it if I have to.”

“Don't get high and mighty with me. You can bring Castiel out by force if you want… Chuck did it three times! But by doing so, you'll have declared war. And you have no dominion over me… boy.” It glowers at him like a human would an ant.

From behind Jack, Dean's voice is heard. “Then at least let Jack see him, alright? He didn't get to say goodbye to Cas before. He’s the only father worth a crap this guy ever had.”

The Empty sighs dramatically and waves its hand in an almost perfunctory gesture. At that moment, the figure of Castiel forms out of the black slime as well, standing just between the portal and Heaven. His eyes open with a start. “J-Jack…?” He turns to Dean. “Dean! You're alive, I can’t… wait… I sense something else.”

Dean winks at the angel, his eyes flashing blue.

Jack smiles wide. “Castiel. We won. We toppled Chuck. The world is safe now.”

Castiel’s sense of relief is palpable. “I knew you could do it. All of you…”

Dean steps forward and looks at him earnestly. “Cas… there's a whole new world out there, and we want you to be a part of it. I want you to be a part of it.”

“Too bad, so sad,” the Empty cuts in. “You don't get a say in this, archangel.” It starts to pull Castiel back in with its black tendrils, who looks disappointed but resigned to this outcome.

“Wait!” Dean snaps. “Cas… there’s one way for you to get out of there… but it may not be worth the cost. It should be your choice.”

Castiel nods slowly, understanding what he must mean. “…It's not a cost, Dean. You know me. You know that… that it's what I've always wanted.”

Dean places his hand on Castiel's shoulder in much the same fashion as Castiel once gripped him tight to raise him from perdition, and his hand glows with celestial power.

The Empty catches on to what he's doing and gawks at the blatant disregard of its authority. “You can't be serious! That was _not_ what we--”

Jack snaps his fingers and closes the portal in an instant. Castiel starts to get dragged in along with it, but Dean rips him loose and he falls to the ground. He offers Castiel a hand up and asks “How you feeling, Cas?”

Castiel looks down at his own body. “It's been a while, but I remember the symptoms. Hunger, physical pain, exhaustion… that's humanity, alright.”

Jack embraces Castiel. “I was almost worried that wouldn't work. It was Dean’s plan.”

The former angel turns to Dean again. “I can't sense your grace now, but I did for a moment… and it's amazing, Dean.” His eyes contain only admiration and love.

**...**

A forgotten back road in Kansas, surrounded by flat, unremarkable landscape stretching out in both directions. It’s late afternoon, and the setting sun shines a darkening orange against the landscape. It’s a sight one could only find on Earth, and it’s here that Jack snaps himself into view, along with the Winchester brothers and Castiel. They all take in the view for a moment.

“Air… even something as simple as air feels different when you're human. I suppose because one has to breathe it,” Castiel observes, breathing in deep.

Sam hugs his old friend for the first time since his resurrection, or ‘rebirth’, as Castiel himself has taken to calling it. “You have no idea how good it is to have you back, Cas.”

Castiel returns the hug gladly and looks at both brothers. “So you two are…”

“Celestial anchors,” Jack pitches in helpfully.

“How's that going?” Castiel asks.

Dean contemplates the setting sun. “Slowly. But getting the hang of it.”

“I'm sorry about this, Cas,” Jack apologizes. “I would have brought you back as you were if I could’ve. But if I ever turn you into an angel again… I think the Empty would never let you go. And your time there wouldn't be as pleasant as eternal slumber.”

Castiel waves aside Jack’s concerns and holds his hand. “I lived for centuries as an angel. I've seen many things. Experienced many wonders of the cosmos. This is the one wonder I could never reach, one brief misadventure aside. Now I have. You've got nothing to apologize for.”

“What do you think you're gonna do down here?” Sam asks.

He ponders the question before coming to a quite serious conclusion. “I’m going to eat a cheeseburger, first. And maybe some… mint chip ice cream.”

“If you don't start with a slice of pie, then you're not really living,” Dean advises.

“And then I thought I'd call Claire… see what she and Jody have been doing, and if she wants to spend some time together…” He looks off in the distance then. “And after that… I don't really know. Isn't that wonderful?”

Jack gets a slight twinge and rubs his head. “Alright, I think it's time.” They all take a step back and Jack takes a deep breath before exhaling a thick plume of black smoke. Once it fully emerges from his mouth, it forms into the shape of Amara.

She stretches and takes a look around. “I see you all haven't completely ruined Earth yet.”

Dean shrugs. “Give us some time. Day's still young.”

“I have a lot to learn,” Jack tells her genuinely. “You have more experience at being… whatever it is that we are, than I do.”

Amara nods. “And I can teach you all I know, so long as you vow to me that you'll never become like my brother was.”

Jack swears to her. “For as long as I exist… I want to purely create. Never destroy.”

That satisfies her. “Then we might just get along fine. Come on, there's a lot you need to know.” She spares one last meaningful glance toward Dean before motioning for Jack to follow.

Before he leaves, he hugs Sam and Dean and Cas in turn.

Sam ventures to ask the question they all wonder. “So… will we see you?”

Jack thinks about it. “I don't know yet. But no matter what happens, I'll always be seeing you. I love you. All of you.” The trio watches as Jack and Amara transform into white and black swirls of energy that intertwine with each other and then ascend, dissolving into the ether.

Sam chuckles in astonishment. “You both realize we raised God, right?”

“Been trying not to think about it too much,” Dean admits.

Castiel keeps his eyes on the sky where Jack left. “We did a good job.”

Sam looks down at the ground. “I'm starting to feel the pull. Back down there to Hell. There's a lot to put in order. The dimensions are still very fragile.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean says. “Opposite direction, though.”

Castiel nods in understanding. “Don't let me keep you. Someday… hopefully not very soon, but someday… I'll see you both again.”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder. “You can count on it, Cas.”

Dean holds his gaze. “You've got a place waiting for you upstairs. And we’re gonna have a lot to talk about when you get there.”

Castiel smiles. “Yes we will.”

In the space of a blink, the brothers vanish from his human vision. He straightens his trenchcoat and starts walking, taking care to enjoy the stillness.

**...**

The Men of Letters Bunker is in a state of disrepair from the severe earthquakes that shook and nearly tore away its foundations. But the place is still standing. Castiel comes in through the front door and walks down the spiral staircase only to hear something, which he didn’t expect to happen. “Hello…?” He calls out. There’s another noise, this one a familiar yelp of pain coming from inside the library. Castiel approaches to see Adam on a ladder doing repair work, hammering some nails and, evidently, his own thumb. “Oh, Adam. I’m sorry about scaring you like that, I didn't expect to find you down here.”

Adam tilts his head. “I didn't expect to see you here either. You're alive, huh?”

“Alive and human. Like you.”

His surprise increases. “Human? Since when?”

Castiel shrugs. “Since now… until the day I die, I suppose.”

Adam nods. “Sam and Dean, then.”

“Indeed. I saw them.”

That makes Adam light up. “You did? How are they?”

“They're well. Making the best of things in Heaven and Hell, from what I'm told.”

Adam laughs. “Well, I spent the last few hours on the phone with my mother. More of their handiwork, I assume. We’re going to go meet later, do some catching up.”

Castiel smiles. “That's great, Adam. You deserve it.”

“So I guess you're here to take this place over? All I can say is good luck. That, and I hope you turn out to be a better repairman than I am…”

“You're a Winchester, and a Legacy. This place belongs to you more than me.”

The youngest of the brothers scoffs at that idea. “I sincerely beg to differ… but you're right, I am a Winchester. And now that Sam and Dean are gone, I’m the last Winchester.”

Castiel looks about the Bunker. “The world will always need at least one.”

“But I know nothing about… all this.”

“You mean… the family business? You want to be a hunter?”

Adam sighs. “I've been thinking about it. But I feel… alone, without Michael's presence. More importantly, I’m only human without him. Now I'm trying to feel right just being me. I had him to rely on for what seemed like an eternity, and I still have that eternity of memories.” He steps over to pick up the same sword off the rack that Dean always favored when ‘practicing’. “Sadly that won’t help one bit when it comes to dealing with monsters as a regular person.”

Castiel passes by the big table that contains the initials of Sam, Dean, Mary, Jack, and of course his own, carved into it. “That’s something you and I have in common, then. Dean always told me hunting was messy, grizzly work, and liable to get you killed the moment you lowered your guard. But he never wavered. Neither did Sam.” He traces his fingertip over the initials. “So, I might stick around… if you think you could use some help figuring it all out.”

Adam steps down off the ladder and goes to stand at the table with him, looking at the carvings in remembrance. The Bunker looms large behind them, a monument to their family.

**...**

Midday at a nondescript church. The kind of small town staple people are most used to seeing in old pictures. It’s a weekday, and not a holiday, so very few are currently assembled inside its humble walls. One particular parishioner sits alone in a pew toward the back, quietly observing. He hears footsteps and looks up to see the man coming to sit down next to him. It’s quite a surprise for him to once again be face to face with Castiel.

“And who are you praying to today, Chuck?”

Chuck is confused. “How exactly did you find me?”

“I can't really say that I was looking. Call it… serendipity.”

“How about that,” he says dryly.

Castiel keeps his eyes on the stained glass window up front. “I'm not here to kill you.”

Chuck nods. “No reason for you to, I suppose. Doesn’t mean it's not good to hear…”

Castiel gives him a quizzical look. “Do you find meaning in a place like this?”

“I wouldn't normally, no. But it's a novelty, isn't it?”

“It's a place of faith, Chuck. Thankfully, there's now someone to have faith in.”

Chuck sighs. “You know, I deserved that.”

“Feeling humble these days?”

“Maybe. A little. I understand why they did it, at least,” he concedes. “In retrospect, it was really the only ending that made sense. I was too blind to see that, though.”

Castiel shakes his head. “There are no endings, Chuck. You know that.”

“Well, either way, it means I wasn't the author that was needed for this particular story.”

“There are other stories,” he offers.

“Actually, I was kinda thinking of giving this one another polish pass. I seem to recall an author by the name of Carver Edlund with a small but significant following for his Supernatural books.” Chuck’s eyes sparkle as he imagines it. “Lots of adventures left untold there.”

Castiel gives a small laugh. “Still a writer, then.”

Chuck gets up from the pew and starts to leave. “Oh yeah. Always a writer.” He pauses. “You know… maybe it is for the best, after all. For us to be down here for a change. We had our shot at the whole ‘running the show’ thing. Let's see what they make of it.”

Castiel looks at him with pleasant surprise. “Miracles do happen, Chuck.”

“See you around. I'll include you in my next dedication.” The former God walks away.

Castiel lingers in the pew and adopts a more contented look. Staring at the stained glass window once more, he considers the world around him as the few people inside pass by him.

**...**

A roadside diner. The once and future classic of Americana, not to mention damn fine eating. The front door opens up, and Dean Winchester walks in. “Hey, is there a…” He starts asking the waitress, before she points him toward a little booth by the window.

Sam Winchester motions to a plate as his brother sits down. “Ordered for you. Bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon. And cheese fries. They’re apparently the best in the county.”

Dean grins and grabs his fork. “Man, do I love not having to care about calories.”

Sam gives him a look. “You never cared about calories.”

They eat together, enjoying each other’s company. “So how's it going?”

Sam nods, taking a bite of salad. “Going good. Rowena's been doing her best to clean it all out down there, and I've been pitching in my two cents. There's got to be a better way to run the place than the eternal torment method. Working on finding out how.”

Dean chomps down on the burger and dabs at the wrong place on his chin with a napkin when Sam tries fruitlessly to alert him to a spot. “You love your lost causes, don’t you?”

“…And I visited Eileen the other day. Tried to explain things as best I could. Maybe something could still work out there, maybe not…” He looks out the window.

Dean smirks. “Oh I’ll bet you two did a lot of talking.”

Sam groans. “Why did your sense of humor have to stay the same?”

“Because even God knows there's no changing perfection.”

Sam takes a sip of beer from the frosty mug that warms at his touch. “What about you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Angels are… angels. There's a lot of work to do. Place can't run on just who's left forever. Gonna need to replenish the ranks eventually.”

“And you say I'm the one stuck with a lost cause.”

Dean shakes his head. “Frickin' tell me about it…”

Sam looks about the diner, trying to recall a long forgotten memory. "We stopped here once in eighty… eight? With Dad. On the werewolf thing?”

“Eighty-nine,” Dean corrects him. “And it was a skinwalker.”

“Pretty sure you're wrong about that.”

Dean finishes off the plate of cheese fries faster than anyone, human or archangel, should rightfully be able to. “I'm right about everything, so that's impossible.”

The brothers savor the moment, knowing it won’t be long before they’ll need to return to their respective domains. For now though, they rest. Dean doesn’t even flag the waitress over in order to get pie.

The quiet is broken when Sam glances out the window and his eyes widen. He clears his throat to get Dean’s attention and points.

Dean turns to see the Impala parked outside and looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Or maybe on Christmas Eve, 1991. “Oh he works in mysterious, awesome ways…”

Sam sets his plate aside and gets up. “I have time before I need to get back, let’s go.”

Dean beats him out the door of the diner. “Remember the rule, Sammy.”

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Sam quotes.

They get in the car together, the most important object in pretty much the whole universe. Dean sits at the wheel with Sam beside him and he runs his hand over the dashboard, patting it with love before turning to his brother. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Sam retorts.

Dean adjusts the mirror, and both brothers notice the amulet hanging from it. The radio comes on, and the car takes off.

_Carry on, my wayward son._ _There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fade to black, cut to credits...
> 
> To any and all who have enjoyed this, and hopefully found it a little more satisfying than what we got on TV, thank you so much for reading. Supernatural will never really be gone, so long as we carry on.


End file.
